Patterns of Warmth, 7 - To Love and To Cherish
by Irene Claire
Summary: A further continuation of this verse - what happens when a child comes into Danny and Steve's world and their attachment grows? Rated T, Established Relationship. McDanno. Charlie Williams, Lou Grover and a few other. Angst; emotional hurt, comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes:** Originally posted on A03; Part of The Patterns of Warmth AU. Established relationship. Etc.

_**Backstory**: unfortunately major portions of this plot are based on a real news report about a 5-year-old girl being locked in a 7-Eleven bathroom with her mother who had overdosed on heroin. Per the news report, police said store employees had gotten access to the bathroom before officers arrived on the scene where they found the mother laying on the bathroom floor._

_When officers did arrive on scene they found hypodermic needles and 10 bags of suspected heroin. The mother was charged with second-degree endangering the welfare of a child, but did not face drug-related charges due to the Overdose Prevention Act._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

He squeezed himself between the cracked porcelain sink and the stained tile wall, silent as his mother quickly dumped the contents of her heavy black leather bag onto the plastic baby changing table. The ugly table was yellowed, old and smelled funny, but C.J.'s mother didn't care. C.J.'s mother had another priority on her mind despite all the money which she now shoved sloppily back into the bag in favor of another thing.

C.J. shook his head, wanting to go home. But his mother ignored him. His mother's lips moved soundlessly as she said something to herself. Then, she smiled happily once she found what she was looking for in the big bag. Unlike his mother though, C.J. sniffed back his tears. He watched his mother's face, barely able to catch the words she was mumbling so very badly to herself. He blinked hard, trying not to cry. Watching as his mother's eyes started to look far, far away.

Feeling sad and scared all at once, even at the tender age of just six years old, C.J. knew that he both existed and didn't exist in his mother's world at the same time when _this_ was going to happen. His mother's lips were trembling and her smile was as twitchy as her fingers. But right then, his mother's fingers didn't tell him anything that was important. They never did when they were wrapped around a needle or tapping out that ugly white powder onto a dirty old, bent spoon.

Ever silent, C.J. made himself small as his mother fumbled with a tiny bottle, that dirty spoon and a bright-pink lighter, laying each item out carefully on the over-used changing table. Next came the scary looking needle, the small bag of cotton balls - a little bag which his mother had just stolen from the convenience store they were in - and a thick rubber band which his mother then wrapped around her upper arm.

C.J. felt his bottom lip begin to tremble. He didn't like hiding in the convenience store's smelly bathroom and he didn't like what his mother was about to do.

"I'll just be a minute, baby," his mother said a moment later. She turned towards him to say it. Remembering that he was still there, her eyes were suddenly more bright. It was too late though because she was tightening the band with her teeth; slapping her upper arm and then reaching for the lighter. No matter what she said now, C.J. only wedged his body even more tightly into the corner.

Besides the money and the gun, he knew what was in the bag. He didn't like the needles or white powdery stuff. It made his mother act funny and forget all about him. It made mumble things C.J. didn't understand. It made his mother sleep so long and hard that C.J. sometimes couldn't wake her up.

His mother was just thumbing the lighter to melt the white powder she'd put on the spoon when C.J. felt a heavy_ thud, thud, thud_ through the soles of his blue sneakers. Something was happening outside the bathroom's door and his eyes widened in newfound fear as his mother's face completely changed to a toothy sneer.

She wasn't afraid like C.J. was though, his mother was mad. Their eyes met and his mother's lips turned white. She was going to yell.

C.J. shrunk down to make himself even smaller, scraping the bony-part of his chest on the porcelain sink. Someone had seen them steal the cotton balls. They shouldn't have gone into the convenience store at all and now, he knew they were really going to get into trouble.

"Damn it! Shut up!" His mother shouted to whomever was banging on the door. "I've got a kid in here! I'll be done in a minute!"

But that wasn't true because his mother didn't intend to leave so quickly and C.J. was only an excuse ... a reason why his mother sometimes did scary things. The band was still around her arm, the loosely tied ends flapping. The teaspoon with that special white powder was in one hand. The lighter poised, in the other. The needle was ready right there on the baby's changing table. They wouldn't be leaving until his mother had done what she _needed_ to do; C.J. knew that and his eyes welled with tears that finally began to roll down his cheeks when his mother pointed to the opposite corner of the unisex bathroom.

C.J. looked over and was confused. The only thing there was a mop and big washer-bucket filled with sharp smelling dirty water, but his mother grinned in triumph. His mother stalked over to the bucket, grabbed the wet mop and, ignoring how the water sprayed from its ropey strands, shoved it hard against the door and the metal frame of the first bathroom stall.

"That'll do," she announced while she smiled broadly to him, a new wildness in her eyes belying the truth of what was coming next.

C.J. shook his head again, understanding that they were now stuck in the bathroom. Of course, they'd locked the door at first, but now with the long pole of the mop, they were _really_ stuck. Stuck on purpose.

He wanted to leave so badly but his mother was back at the table. Almost too quickly, his mother opened the bag of cotton balls and thumbed the lighter to life again. Within moments, the small yellowish-blue flame was making the white powder a liquid. His mother was filling up the needle. She didn't see C.J. shaking his head over and over as tears continued to wet his cheeks. His mother didn't see anything at all as she leaned heavily against the baby's changing table, her arm cocked and awkwardly braced so she could press the tip of the needle into her skin. Through tear-filled eyes, C.J. watched his mother drop the needle when she was finished. He watched as she pulled the rubber band from her arm.

"Just give me a minute, baby," his mother mouthed to him as she slowly sank to the floor, balanced on her knees. She was smiling as her eyes closed. Her mouth opened and then closed as if breathing heavily, her lips twitching into a scary half-smile. But C.J.'s mother's happiness lasted for a very short time.

Something was different this time. Her face changed at the same time her hands became tight fists. She rocked stiffly on her knees.

Frozen in fear, C.J. watched as his mother's head fell forward and her smile became a sickly grimace. Kneeling there, his mother swayed just once before her upper body stiffened and she fell over, hitting the floor hard ... face first.

For a minute, C.J. just stayed where he was. For a long, long time, he watched as a bloody ribbon began a thread-like path across the dirty tile. It came towards him slowly at first, a slow-moving red line which began to get bigger. As it spread scary red fingers which crept towards the toe of his own sneaker, only then did C.J. finally open his mouth to cry for help ... except, in his terror, the little boy wasn't sure if anything was coming out.

**~ to be continued ~**


	2. Chapter 2

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve grinned as he glanced over to the passenger seat of the Camaro where his partner was sitting. He playfully tapped the Camaro's steering wheel with both hands, a hollow-sounding off-tempo.

"We don't have to do this you know," he offered the suggestion as he watched Danny reload his weapon and ensure that the safety was still on. Danny sucked his lip between his teeth and shrugged.

"Yes, we do," he replied. "We're obligated."

"Obligated?" Steve repeated questioningly. He made a face about this unexpected side-trip on a late Friday afternoon. A beautiful afternoon on the cusp of a long holiday weekend when they had better things to do and much to look forward to doing together. Still, he couldn't lose his happy mood and his grin returned, only deepening when he caught Danny's eye.

"I can think of _other_ obligations I'd prefer to follow up on," Steve teased. "Like ... let's say ... mattress shopping."

"That's because you're an animal," Danny replied as he casually snapped his sidearm back into its small holster. "Where I am an officer of the law first and foremost." His cheeks pinked slightly though as he battled his attempts to _not_ give Steve the satisfaction of a smile.

"Are you?" Steve chuckled. "At least are you ... first ...?"

"... and foremost," Danny coughed the two words out in a vain attempt to stop the burble of a laugh which finally broke free. "I hate you! Keep your eyes on the road and your hands ... !"

"Where Danno?" Steve grinned triumphantly as Danny sputtered out. He flexed the fingers on his right hand while steering the Camaro with his left. He made a show of examining the back of his hand, then the palm. "Where would you like my hands?"

"Oh my God, you _are_ an animal," Danny slapped Steve's hand away when he dared flick his fingers over Danny's thigh. "Knock it off; we're back on duty. Let's see what HPD's issue is first; then I'll make some other ... recommendations."

"Promises, promises," Steve chuckled softly as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands, accelerating through traffic with a careful, practiced ease despite the volume of travelers on the road. They were only a few minutes out from the convenience store where an altercation had been reported between store employees and a customer. It was likely going to be a mundane call and something more typically in the regular police department's wheel-house. But as Danny had duly noted, because they were so close, there'd be no harm in stopping in and lending a hand. After all, it was the least 5-0 could do when HPD had consistently backed _them_ up time and again.

Steve parked next to the first cruiser, nearest the store, recognizing Sergeant Duke Lukela right away. The older man was near retirement and yet still game to manage a scene. The older man was in deep conversation with one of the store employees and it was he who Danny and Steve immediately approached.

"So? What's going on?" Steve asked Duke as he shrugged into his tac-vest. "What's with this altercation?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Duke said, his tone flat. "This young man here? This is the store manager who called it in to 9-11 ... but we've not gotten too far that determining a woman has locked herself inside the restroom in the rear of the store."

"Hey," Steve said to the clerk, frowning after Duke's brief update. "That's it? You've been here the entire time, right? So what's going on?"

Steve was surprised when the convenience store clerk made a face as if bored with the questions. No more than a kid, _Jordy_ according to his name-tag, was looking everywhere except at him and Danny, or even Duke. If Steve wanted to be fair, which he most certainly did not, he'd have given the clerk a break on age alone. Quite suddenly though his mood shifted from what he'd been feeling in the car. Light-hearted turned sour and suddenly, Steve was far from feeling ... benevolent. Selfishly, he and Danny were on the cusp of their first long weekend together; a real weekend and young Jordy's sheer lack of engagement was nothing short of ... criminal.

He and Danno. Together.

_Alone_.

Not even Danny's kids would be there. And most incredibly to Steve, Danny was okay with that. For the first time since Steve could remember, Danny was content with practically everything in his life and it was in no small part due to how they'd finally settled in together. Glancing at Danny, Steve's gaze softened for a split second before he covered it up.

Right then, Danny was primed and ready for action all over again as he fastened his own tac-vest over the clean white tee-shirt he'd changed into before leaving the office. Eyes flashing as brightly as his sarcasm, Danny was practically bouncing on his toes as he eyed the kid-clerk and took stock of everything and everyone around them. He was thrumming with adrenalin and Steve grinned as Danny flashed him an impish look from under his lashes. Danny's mood had equally shifted. He and Danny were on the same page and Steve had to hide behind a faked cough lest he burst out laughing.

Young Jordy was soon to be in for a real ride if he didn't wake up a bit.

"This is ridiculous," Danny said impatiently as his expression darkened. "Can't you tell us anything else?" His moody scowl matched Steve's disapproval as Jordy gave out with an audible sigh. Duke cleared his throat in warning, but the kid was clueless.

"Hey … come on this is serious," Danny patiently prodded the boy. "You called us ... remember?"

"Yeah, but like I said _already_, some lolo locked herself in the bathroom," Jordy said. "I think she had a knife ... I dunno. Maybe a gun." He shifted from foot to foot communicating that he had a lot more important things he'd much rather be doing than talking to them. Steve could easily commiserate but he was unimpressed. Young Jordy was just that ... _young_. So he sighed loudly as Jordy's attention drifted towards a group of teenagers off to the side in the parking lot. Jordy was grandstanding and putting on show. Steve became even less impressed. Danny, though? He took two steps to block Jordy from his view of his friends, making an obvious show of is own.

"That's a big difference in weapon. Knife? Gun? Which is it?" Danny noted in disgusted. "Let's start with something a bit easier. How long did you wait from when you first thought something might be wrong, until you called 9-11?"

"What? Called … who?" The kid asked sounding stupid and Steve shook his head uselessly as Jordy glanced from his friends back to Danny, over to Duke and then towards Steve. "Um. Oh. You mean 9-11?" His brow furrowed in confusion, his smile tentative when Danny began to grin.

"You believe this guy, Steven?" Danny laughed out right. Steve grinned at Duke as Jordy thought he might smile, too. The kid was oblivious and this wasn't going to wind up going in a good direction.

"Nope," Steve replied calmly. He folded his arms across his chest."Why don't you do the honors, Danno?"

"Yo, knucklehead," Danny said as he got in Jordy's personal bubble only to rap his knuckle twice on the side of the kid's head. Steve snorted comically through his nose as Jordy literally _yipped_ in surprise. Duke backed up a step, the back of his hand covering his mouth to hide a laugh. The kid was lucky getting away with just the flat of Danny's knuckles. If he'd been a real felon, his partner would have actually knocked his head into a brick wall. And hard. But an under-aged part-time convenience store clerk?

_Nope_. Still the kid acted as if he had been struck by a lead pipe and Danny rolled his eyes towards the heavens before meeting Steve's with a wide-eyed, incredulous look. Steve grinned in response: this was Danny at his finest and it was always something to behold.

"Seriously? Who? Of course 9-11!" Danny scoffed as he mockingly examined his knuckles as if looking for damage. "Steven? Is our friend Jordy here, for real?" An eyebrow was raised in askance next, his head subtly cocked in the clerk's direction.

Steve smirked as he took a step back to stand next to Duke in order to watch the show before waving Danny on to proceed. Danny despised repeating himself but maybe he wouldn't have to. As he rubbed at his head and stared at Danny, Jordy seemed to be on board now.

"May I?" Danny pressed and Steve nodded.

"You're doing fine, Danno. Continue. Please," Steve said, granting full permission. Something that was well worth the devilish expression which raced across Danny's face; a look which Steve never got tired of seeing.

"The woman…," Danny began. "... when did she first get here before you thought something could be wrong? How long was she in the store or the bathroom before you heard something at least? Like … banging? Before the thud you said you heard... like a body hitting the floor? Sharp objects? Maybe a shiny thing that shoots projectiles? Just ... maybe a little kid ... _crying_ for help? You said a kid was involved. Ring a bell much? _How. Long. Ago. Did. It. Really. Happen?_ And just so you know, the answer I'm looking for is typically expressed in minutes. Whole numbers please."

The kid-clerk scowled at Danny as he kept rubbing at the side of his head, but at least he was paying attention now. "I dunno. Maybe fifteen minutes before I realized something might be wrong, _brah_. I banged on the door first and asked her to hurry it up … she screamed back at me. Real nasty. _Mean_. We're right off the beach so we get a lot of people coming and going. All types. The kids can be loud ... some are rude … and all the time, somebody is fooling around in the store; using the restrooms for everything and anything. They _steal_ stuff. It's a real drag to work here sometimes; I don't have time to watch the clock but maybe it was another ten minutes before I heard … that noise."

"I sympathize," Danny drawled next, clearly annoyed. "But now you tell me that you did try to get this woman to come out of the bathroom… you didn't say that before. Did she have a child with her?"

"No, yes, ...I'm not really sure," Jordy quickly recanted when Danny bounced forward on his toes, rubbing idly at his knuckles. The kid was finally paying attention as he glanced worriedly at Danny's hands and then shrugged in confusion. He didn't know.

"_Yo_, like I didn't exactly _see_ a kid, you know? But that sound ... it wasn't like real crying. I might have _heard_ some kind of weird howling noise ... it was like some kind of animal or something. All I know is that somebody else wanted to use the restroom and couldn't get in ... I tried to open the door and thought I heard something fall ... something big ... and then that weird animal noise. So, that's when I called the police. Then, I had to watch the register, you know, _brah_? It's my job."

"So now it could be an animal?" Steve sniffed, intentionally sounding rude. "You're right Danny, this is ridiculous. Could be armed with a weapon; but might not be. And we've gone from a single woman, to maybe one with a kid, and now _maybe_ it's an animal."

"Good. Maybe you can have a bonding moment," Danny murmured just loud enough for Steve to hear.

"Shut up," Steve hissed back between his teeth.

"Like I said, _brah_," Jordy was saying. "I don't really know. A woman for sure; but I'm not sure of anything else. I just heard a weird noise. I have a job to do and I had to stay up by the register."

"And I'm sure you do a fine one, too," Danny replied in a droll tone. Duke Lukela snickered, needing to briefly walk away to compose himself. Steve didn't bother hiding anything at all though. When Jordy looked at Danny, more confused than ever before, Danny elaborated slowly, thumbing towards the entrance to the convenience mart. Steve hung on every word and coy expression, relishing his partner's many faces.

"_Job_ I mean. A fine ... _job_."

"Oh," Jordy breathed out with a nervous bob of his head. "Yeah, _brah_."

"Oh my God," Steve coughed into his fist. He was done; they were getting nowhere as time wasted away.

What the clerk was saying didn't make too much sense, but in an odd way, it did. He might have been on his phone, playing a game or texting. Danny and Steve had to give Jordy the benefit of the doubt and assume he really _had_ been working. Regardless of the reason, valid or not, it was all they were going to get from him. Compounding things, the store's general clientele weren't going to be the most reputable or reliable of witnesses. If any had even bothered to hang around to check out what the commotion was all about. With luck, maybe some of what the clerk at least intimated was true and could be of some minor value. With any luck at all, at least there was no weapon involved and certainly not a child. Their best case scenario was that the issue was a non issue and only a stupid prank.

"That's it," Jordy said. He shrugged helplessly when he ran out of words and no more questions seemed to be coming his way. He flinched dramatically though when Danny put his hands on his shoulders to turn him around and push him towards an HPD unit.

"Was that so hard? Now go sit. Stay. Over there, by those two nice police officers," Danny instructed. "Sergeant Lukela will help you find your way over there."

"Let's go," Steve said. "He's zero help and I think you've scared the crap out of him anyway." He was smiling though, chuckling softly to himself as Jordy trotted off, a baleful look over his shoulder aimed solely at Danny as Duke followed the young clerk.

He and Danny went to the rear of the store where a short, narrow hall led to a unisex restroom. Another HPD officer was already there, holding a key strung to a piece of wood, looking confused.

"There's definitely at least one person inside," he reported. "I heard someone moaning when I called out and announced myself ... then ... it's weird though. There was something else. Like a shuffling sound or ... like someone was sliding something around on the floor. I unlocked the door but can't get it opened. Something heavy is blocking it on the inside."

Steve frowned as he sized up the heavy industrial door. He tested the handle and used his shoulder to push against the door, Danny and then the officer joining in to help. But even with their combined strength, the door refused to budge.

"Something sure as hell is blocking it from the inside," Danny said. "What the hell would be inside a bathroom that would be that big or heavy?"

"The better question is ... _why_," Steve added. "Why the hell would anyone lock themselves _in_?" He nodded towards the officer, indicating he wanted something before he pointed back outside towards the parking lot. "Ask that store manager, Jordy ... find out what else is in here. Maybe it's used for storage?"

"Wash bucket and janitorial stuff," the officer reported back seconds later. "He was in the process of cleaning it out ... if we can't open the door, he thinks it's probably the long pole from the mop."

"Makes sense - for a change," Danny remarked with a short laugh. "Wall to door. If someone didn't want to be bothered ... that's the way to do it. Any windows from the outside?"

"Nope," the officer said. "No windows … no point of egress at all. We checked that out already, too. No windows; just an A/C vent and this door. There's only this one real way in or out."

"This is plain ridiculous," Danny complained. "What do we do? The hinges are also on the inside."

"We might need the fire department," Steve admitted as he paused. He made a face. "Hey!" He called out then and knocked firmly. "Hey! Police ... Five-0! We're here to help ... can you open the door?" When nothing was forthcoming, Steve dropped his head and stared at the floor, considering his options. Sure they could call the fire department, but there were other things too ...

"No," Danny said, interrupting his thoughts.

"What? No what?" Steve asked in surprise. "But ..."

"No!" Next to him Danny was looking at him now and shaking his head in exasperation.

_But ... it's a sound plan._ Silently, Steve thumbed in the direction of the Camaro. He pantomimed opening the trunk and grinned when Danny's eyes widened before he wildly shook his head to the contrary.

_No! No way!_

_Oh come on!_ Steve stuck his bottom lip out in disappointment, because what other immediate plan did they have but a small incendiary? _Please?_ He tried again, adding a smarmy smile now, but Danny was firm.

_Bad idea._ Danny insisted while making a funny teasing sound in his throat. He gestured to the door itself and pointed to his own gun. His new message was clear:_ seriously? What if the perp or the perps had a gun in there Steven?_

Rolling his eyes, Steve mimicked the sound Danny had just made:_ No - you're wrong! Because gunfire likely would have already been exchanged by now, Daniel._

Between them and completely ignored, the HPD officer looked from one to the other uncertain of the silent barrage which oddly, was clearly an argument of sorts.

"No," Danny hissed at him through clenched teeth. "No ... but ... hold on. Wait ... what's that sound?"

They all paused, barely breathing. The three men froze outside the door, listening hard, eyes narrowed in concentration. Ever so faintly, just audible, the sound of a sniffle came on the heels of a soft rustling noise... and a tiny sound, much like a sob, eked softly through to them.

"That was different," the HPD Officer whispered. "Could that be a little kid?"

"_Shit_," Danny whispered. His expression completely changed to one of worry, even alarm. "I think so. There _is_ a little kid in there; must be." Moving closer he raised his voice, calling out more loudly. "Hey, sweetie ... can you hear me? It's the police and we're here to help. Are you okay in there?" They all held their breath again to listen. But now, there was a disturbing vacuum of silence.

"If it's a kid, I hope he's not hurt," the officer said. "So now we got a woman according to the store clerk ... and a child. An ambulance is on the way and should be here any minute; but I'll CPS, too. Just in case. No matter what though, we need to get in there ... how are we going to do this? Hinges are on the inside ... can't pop the door. Fire Department?"

"Not sure how to get in there yet," Steve said slowly as he visually examined the heavy metal door. "But … yeah, call CPS. Call the Fire Department and in the meantime, how's this… we can take the handle off and look inside ... see what we've got?"

"Smart man," Danny grinned happily, squeezing Steve's arm in gratitude as he left on a run to find some tools. When he returned, Danny had a number of things in hand.

"C-4 would be faster," Steve muttered as he selected a screwdriver from the small stash of tools, ignoring Danny's blatant moan. Nevertheless, it only took a few minutes to get the silver-toned latch, handle and the matching metal plate with its mounting screws removed from the door itself. Since the lock was't engaged, the opposite side of the handle fell into the bathroom with a sharp clang, leaving Steve with a round hole which was slightly larger than fist-sized. Certainly big enough for someone to at least look inside.

"Let me see," Danny insisted when Steve got the mechanism off the door. On his knees, Danny related what he could see. "There's a woman on the floor ... maybe early twenties. There's a needle ... drugs. So _yeah_, probably an overdose. She's not moving; can't really see her face. I think ... I think she might be breathing. Bit of blood on the floor. And okay ... there's the janitorial supplies ... water on the floor. Mop handle's wedged ... like the clerk said ...she must have ..._oh_."

Danny's voice petered out and he quieted, jockeying for a better position in an attempt to see more of the small room. He paused and then rocked his forehead into the door, peering intently at something until Steve heard the soft curses.

"Oh. Oh, no. _Shit_," Danny whispered. "This ... it's not good. It's not fair."

"And?" Steve prodded, his hand falling to Danny's shoulder. "What? Danno?"

"Ah, Steve," Danny mumbled, taking a brief pause to swipe at his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. "We gotta get this door opened ..."

"What? What's wrong?" Steve urged again, easily sensing that his partner had become very upset and already knowing the answer to the question he asked next. He just didn't want it to be true based on the terrible scene which Danny had just described because _that_ was bad enough.

"Is there a kid in there too?"

There was a long pause as Danny tried to jockey his body for a better view of the interior. He quieted and stilled, his expression changing again to one of sadness and concern. He was clearly very upset. Silent now, Steve squeezed his shoulder in askance.

"Yeah ... yeah, it's a little boy. Little, like Charlie," Danny finally confirmed. "And Steve? He looks absolutely terrified."

**~ to be continued ~**


	3. Chapter 3

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"It's a little boy," Danny repeated. He sounded incredulous, but that was only a predecessor to what Steve knew would be a heated sense of outrage. Never at the child though ... never that. Proven as Steve watched his partner balance lightly on his toes, redirecting his attention back to the bathroom, and by some miracle, managed to completely wipe any anger out of his tone. Calm, and friendly, the only evidence of anger which Steve could see was the way Danny's shoulders hunched, one hand balled into a fist.

"Hey ... hi. My name's Danny, "Danny called out, practically oozing calmness and genuine concern. "Can you come out from behind there and talk to me? We're here to help. Promise ... we just want to help."

They both waited then with Danny trying again, and again. He bounced on his toes, sighed and then became frustrated. Rapping his knuckles lightly on the door, he stared at Steve, helplessly.

"Now what?" He asked. "We're going to need the Fire Department ... we've got to get this door opened."

"Let me see, Danno," Steve said quietly as Danny seemed to wilt when there was no reply to his calls or gentle questions. "Let me try."

Looking dejected, Danny sighed as he slid back to allow Steve a chance to take his place. Squatting down, Steve could hear the soft sniffles more clearly through the hole they'd made and now, he could at least see part of the child's profile.

"Hey buddy," Steve called out gently. "We're here to help. Everything's going to be okay ... what's your name? Can you tell me your name?"

The little boy moved then and Steve quickly spied the small pair of blue sneakers ... a glimpse of multi-colored kid's-sized boardies. Navy blue with yellow flecks. A blur of dark hair; thick and unruly. No bigger than Charlie, he'd moved the trashcan just enough to wedge himself as tightly as possible in the farthest corner of the bathroom. As far as he could get away from the woman they all assumed to be his mother; as far as he could feasibly be from the door, too. But he was watching them at least, hard as it probably was through the small hole.

"My name's Steve ... and well, like Danny said... we just want to help you ... and your mom. We know the door is stuck, but we're going to fix that. We know you're scared, too. But we'll get you out as fast as we can. Can you tell me your name first?" Steve tried to coax the little boy from his hiding place much as Danny had done. No matter how hard he tried though, the results were the same. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.

"He's really scared," Steve said, feeling helpless. "And I can't say that I blame him."

"Get me one of those juice squeeze boxes from the case," Danny ordered the officer behind them while he stayed on his knees by the door, still shoulder to shoulder with Steve. "Grape or cherry... something a kid would like ... something we can shove though the hole ... and see if that helps. Then, put a call into HFD ... tell them what's going on ... we need to get this door opened ASAP."

"You got it," the man said as he took off on a jog.

"Good idea," Steve whispered, all the time trying to see more of the little boy. He smiled when he did, waggling his hand through the small hole. Trying anything to look and sound friendly with the limited space they had. "I bet you're thirsty, huh? Would you like something to drink while we work on getting you out of here?"

"Here. Detective Williams? How's this?" It hadn't taken long for the officer to return and hand Danny two small drink pouches. "These look good; they're small enough. Fire Department's been contacted; they'll be here in about eight minutes. Max."

"Yeah. Perfect ... thanks," Danny said as he took one of the brightly colored drink pouches and popped it as hard as he could through the hole, using the palm of his hand. His aim was decent enough when it landed at least in the direction of what they could see of the child's little sneaker.

"Find something else, too, for him. Maybe a yogurt ... or chips ... animal crackers."

"Animal crackers?" Steve asked after the officer left again. "I like animal crackers." Despite the seriousness of the situation, he grinned for Danny's benefit, chuckling at his partner's impatient eye-roll.

"Do you _ever_ stop?" Danny retorted. "Like ... _ever_?"

"Do you really _want_ me to?" Steve replied innocently, ending the short banter when he heard an odd sound from inside the bathroom. Their smiles faded quickly at the same time, listening hard, not disappointed when they heard a rustling sound; a rasping hollow noise.

"Hey. What's that?" Steve whispered first.

"I dunno," Danny said as he shouldered Steve more to the side in order to give himself some room. "Is it the woman? Or the kid?" Crouched down, they both tried to watch at the same time, each holding their breath. Each trying to see and figure out what they were now hearing.

"It's the kid. He's ... he's moved the trash can ... he's out and I can see him. It's the juice, Danno. He's going for it. The juice box is doing the trick; good call," Steve explained softly as the sneakers moved, coming more into view, and a tousled head of hair appeared next. The small hand made a grab for the juice and in that instant, he caught more than a glimpse of dark blue eyes under a veil of long brownish-colored bangs.

"I'd say he's about five years old," Steve confirmed. "He looks okay physically ... but he's such a little guy."

"Let me see," Danny insisted, just about forcing Steve to give way entirely. "Hey," he called out quietly, communicating a warmth and smile in his tone. "Hi ... do you like that one? Is it a good flavor?" But scarcely a moment after he'd spoken, Danny startled badly enough for Steve to grip his shoulder tightly.

"_Shit_ ... no," Danny practically choked out, alarmed, glued to the small hole and to whatever was happening on the other side. "No way!"

"Now what?" Steve asked worriedly. "What's the matter?" Things were bad enough but something else was wrong based on Danny's abrupt change in demeanor.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Danny said in a tight voice. He glanced towards Steve and then ducked his head to swipe at his eyes in disbelief. "It's not right ... he can't be ..." He was talking more to himself now, the disbelief obvious. Danny inhaled sharply in a vain attempt to regain his composure before he looked again through the small opening. This time though, his breath hitched.

"Danny?" Steve prompted once more, surprised by the sheer level of emotion he could read in his partner's face. Impatient with the lack of information. "What the hell's going on in there? Is ... is he hurt?"

"Well ...," Danny paused and then gave out with a sharp disbelieving half-laugh. He waved his hand at the door. "I think he's _deaf_, Steve ... he just _signed_ something to me. I think the first bit was a thank you ... a _thank you_ for the juice. He's scared half to death ... trapped ... probably feeling alone. Overwhelmed even ...and he's not _talking_ to us because ... he's _deaf_. He can't hear _us_! I don't think he can hear _anything at all_! Who the hell does shit like this with a little kid? And ... and we need a better way to communicate with him so we can get him out of there; his mother hasn't moved an inch. Where the hell's that ambulance? Where's the fire department?"

Danny was talking fast now, his voice quavering, and Steve still wasn't at all certain he'd heard any of it right. Behind them, the HPD officer literally gasped out loud.

"Deaf?" Steve said. He stared at Danny blankly for a minute just trying to digest what his partner had just said.

"I'm sorry. Say ... _what_? Did you just say he was ... deaf? Maybe we can cut a bigger hole," Steve said as he quickly reassessed the door, the thickness of its metal. The placement of its hinges. Everything about the situation suddenly seemed far more urgent and he clambered to his feet wanting to move ... desperate now to do something more.

"Or, in the car, we've got…"

"No! Are you out of your mind?" Danny reprimanded him while he got to his feet, too, slapping Steve's chest with the back of his hand before starting to pace in the narrow space. "No C-4, _no_ blow torches, or _anything_ from the trunk of my car, Steven!"

"Did I say anything about C-4?" Steve objected loudly. He pointed to the door, using it as an excuse for the obstruction that it was. "We don't even _have_ a blow torch. No! What I _meant_ ..."

"Fire Department!" Danny reminded him loudly. But his short tirade ended when they heard a loud scraping noise from inside the bathroom. A new sound ... loud and abrasive. In a flash, Danny was back down on his knees to look through the hole and his mouth gaped open wide. This time though, he began to smile.

"Whoa ... wow," he said. "This ... _this_ we can work with."

"What! _Danny_ ... come on!" Steve practically barked out his impatience as his partner changed gears with lightning speed, utterly frustrated when Danny only held up his hand to forestall their conversation.

"Wait! He ... Okay. Good job...," Danny said, stopping only long enough to squeeze his hand through the opening apparently to give the boy an encouraging thumbs-up. "Come on ... you got it! You got it!"

"What he doing?! Let me see!" Steve complained, practically pushing Danny out of the way for a look of his own. He chuckled when he gained the space he needed, surprised when he saw what the boy was doing. "Oh ...!" He breathed out, more than pleased by what Danny had gotten so excited about.

"Here's a yogurt... and cookies ... But?," the young officer started to say as he hurried back. "Hey, what's happening?"

"He's trying to get the pole out of the way," Steve explained, sparing the officer a glance. "He's come out of hiding and he's really trying to get the pole free from where it's wedged."

The child was indeed tugging ferociously on the mop handle. He was alternating between pulling at it hard and then kicking at it as best as he could for his size. Steve held his breath, fingers crossed though he sensed the Fire Department's arrival. It was far from being anti-climatic when there was a pop, a clang, and then the long pole moved just enough down the opposite tiled wall ... screeching and scraping its way ... clattering towards the toilet bowl. Moving more than enough for everyone to know that he'd done it.

"Ha!" Steve cheered happily as the door began to swing open now that it was freed. "He did it!"

Getting to his feet, Steve peered around the corner of the door. He moved slowly, showing more of himself. Watching the little boy who was just standing there and breathing hard, staring back, his hands curled into tight little fists. The juice box abandoned. He'd done it and yet seemed absolutely surprised by his success. And now, as Steve opened the door even more, the boy was still very much afraid. The more he saw of Steve, the more he backed away from the door. Once again, moving as far as he could get away and towards the garbage pail; back to his original hiding place.

"It's okay," Steve soothed, his next words soft and meant for Danny and the HPD officer. "We go in slowly ... let's not scare him anymore than he already is ... take care of him. Check out his mother. Get them both the help they need."

Carefully, he pushed the door all the way open, being careful of accidentally hitting the unconscious woman. He stepped in, allowing Danny and the HPD officer some room to follow. Then he crouched back down, Danny following suit behind him. Smiling warmly, Steve held out his hand, palm up, but the child had had enough of the frightening situation.

"No, no you're okay ... we aren't going to hurt you," Steve said when the boy backed further away. He spoke slowly and carefully, hoping against all hope that the boy might be able to at least read his lips. "We're here to help."

Obviously frightened, the boy looked at Steve, then to Danny and then to his mother. He took a deep breath. Another tear rolled down his cheek. None of them could figure out what he might be understanding. Finally, he raised his hand and pointed to the hypodermic needle on the bathroom floor and then astonishingly to another one on the baby changing table. Biting his lip and heaving in a shattered breath of air as he tried to stay brave, the boy pointed down towards mother.

"Oh boy," Danny murmured sadly. "Poor little man."

Evidently, he understood quite a lot. What he understood though was devastating to all three men. And this - though terrible in all ways - was probably just the tip of the iceberg for the child.

Stunned, Steve swallowed hard as Danny's face literally lost all its color; no doubt, Steve's complexion mirrored his.

"We need to get him out of here, Danny," Steve whispered when he followed the little boy's trembling finger back up to the table top. There was more there: money, a large black faux-leather bag ... just too much to absorb at once. "God, what a mess ...," he muttered under his breath as distraught by the situation as much as his partner.

"Escort the EMT's back here," Steve said as he looked at the mother and the bloody stain glistening on the tiled floor. "Secure everything else as a crime scene."

"You got it, sir," the officer answered just as quietly as he quickly left them.

"What a mess," Steve murmured mostly to himself. This was no longer a simple side-trip to lend HPD officers a hand. His joking with Danny was now long forgotten, as were their weekend plans. It might be callous because they didn't really know the mother's circumstances, but everything paled now in comparison to the welfare of this one little boy. Steve scrubbed at his eyes, seeing a sparkle of blinding lights. Danny's hand was on his shoulder, offering him support. A feeling of support which they both honestly needed.

"Okay," Steve breathed out when his vision cleared. He sighed and looked at the boy again. He was staring at Steve now, his eyes glistening and his reddened face streaked with tears.

"Hey bud," he said. Trying to smile encouragingly, Steve maintained his easy crouch, staying resolutely eye-level with the boy. He held his hand out and did the only thing he could think of doing. He simply waited.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	4. Chapter 4

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"Come here, little man," Steve crooned softly while holding his hand out. "It's going to be okay. It's okay ... it'll be okay." He was so angry, he had to work hard to cover up his feelings, but he managed. He did it without a blink of an eye and for the sole benefit of the little boy, his smile remaining soothing, genuine despite his internal fire which he shoved to the side.

Shifting from foot to foot, the boy looked from Steve's eyes to his mouth. Ever so slowly, he returned a hesitant smile too, dimple appearing by his cheek, and yet, didn't budge an inch even though it seemed like he wanted.

"Maybe me?" Danny said. He knelt down near Steve, copying his position to look as non-threatening as possible. Next to Steve, he held his hand out and smiled. "Hi ... I'm Danny" he said slowly, tapping his chest. "Danny." Tapping Steve's arm, he repeated the simple gesture. "Steve. This is Steve."

As he sensed movement behind them, likely the EMTs coming, Steve deepened his smile. Seconds were like hours and sweat was beginning to drip down his back. He could so easily just stand up, take two strides and just scoop the child up, but something just made him stop. Instead, he tapped his own chest and then Danny's knee to compound their message.

"We want to help you, okay?"

The boy's tear-filled gaze followed Steve's gestures and he appeared to understand. Steve groaned though when he opened his hand and tapped his chin with his thumb, his other fingers splayed wide. It meant something important and his lips trembled when Steve shook his head in confusion.

"I'm sorry I don't understand," Steve said, easily reading the boy's disappointment when he repeated the gesture in vain. "Come to me ... let's go. Okay?" He held both hands out now, and fell to one knee, his posture even more welcoming. They _needed_ to get moving.

"Come on," Danny murmured under his breath. "We're wasting time; medics are here, too." He was worried. But the father inside was even more upset and deeply unsettled about having a child in such a troublesome mix. If Steve wanted to simply pick the child up and carry him to safety, his partner was on the verge of actually swooping past him to do it. Steve could tell that everything about Danny was screaming out this frustration in silence.

"He'll come," Steve whispered back. The child was watching them closely, his small face lined with stress. "Let him decide, Danno."

Steve waited patiently, not rushing at all despite the urgency of the situation. "Please?" Steve whispered as he beckoned the child, daring to scoot forward just a few inches. It might have been a bad move, but then the boy came to him fast enough, arms out-stretched for Steve to hug him close to his chest. Tucking the small head close to his shoulder, Steve got to his feet and didn't look back as he left the bathroom and strode quickly through the convenience store.

Behind him, Steve could hear Danny making demands to secure the scene and ensuring the mother was getting medical attention. His tone continued to be curt; practically abrasive and Steve sighed in understanding. It would take hours for Danny to come down from this particular event. Steve almost wished they had ignored it and gone home to kick off their long weekend together. But the hoarse sniffle tugged hard at his heart-strings. He automatically rubbed soothing warm circles over the boy's back. Face grim, Steve kept walking, sing-songing nonsense to the child in his arms as little legs entwined around his waist and his face burrowed into the crook of his neck.

**H5O* H5O**

"If nobody's available …..," Steve said. "We have other options. Options we might have to seriously consider using."

He was speaking to the representative from Chid Protective Services. His mind was racing through those options all designed to protect the child because, in addition to the obvious stash of drugs, Danny had found a signifiant amount of cash in the woman's bag. Too much cash even to be a modest street score. The final count would likely wind up to be in excess of ten or even fifteen thousand dollars. The money was loose in the bag. Handfuls of hundred dollar bills had been scooped and shoved inside in haste.

Then there was the question of the hefty fire-arm; an imposing - and fully loaded - Glock automatic pistol. A weapon which likely had taken some effort and cost to procure.

Finally, according to young Jordy, the woman had stolen a small bag of cotton balls: a cheap, ninety-nine cent bag of cotton balls. She was on surveillance cameras in the convenience store. She had a handicapped child. No doubt she was on the run and Steve could come up with any number of reasons why. All of them though put the little boy in danger.

What they'd witnessed in the bathroom looked bad but felt far worse the more they'd begun to poke and prod only the things at their fingertips. Already uneasy, Steve was now hyper-vigilant and suspicious of the woman's _professional_ dealings and what could be a deep field of dangerous associates. Someone would be looking for the drugs she had in hand; not to mention the sloppily stowed and very significant bundle of cash. And having a deaf child in tow, she'd not be able to hide for long. Therefore, the existence of the powerful weapon.

He glanced over now to where the child was sitting on the trunk of the Camaro. Wrapped in a blanket with yet another drink box in hand, Danny was fawning over him. The mother - if the woman really was the mother - had no identification on her and it was taking time to figure out who she was and where she'd come from.

Since calming him down, Danny had been trying to figure out at least the little boy's first name and by the smile on his partner's face, maybe he'd finally figured it out. With a slow diligence, Danny had been working nonstop in drawing him out of his silent shell. Shy and afraid at first, Danny had slowly chipped away at the boy's fearful lack of trust and now they were in some kind of avid discussion of sorts.

As Steve watched, the boy was making a studious show of things with his hands and fingers and Danny was busily writing something down on a pad of paper he'd absconded from the convenience mart. A move which had once again, sent Jordy into an apoplectic fit of proprietary. Nevertheless, fear and reticence had now turned to excitement and for a few seconds, Steve watched as the child used one hand to make one shape and then with dipped the same hand in a short arc. He did it once and then twice, smiling when Danny successfully copied him.

Lost in the scene being played out, Steve smiled softly as Danny gently cupped the child's cheek to encourage him to continue. Danny and kids were something of a magical enigma. He watched in awe as Danny's thumb gently wiped a stray left-over tear from the child's cheek. The gesture was sensitive and thoughtful and Steve felt a pang inside his chest for the way he looked at Danny next. It was almost a look of innocent wonder and with that, Steve knew that the little boy probably hadn't experienced the tiniest modicum of kindness in a very, very long time.

Leave it to his partner to do the impossible though. The boy finally dared to smile, his eyes briefly lighting up with newfound interest, when Danny wrote something on the paper. What Danny had written suddenly got a rather adamant nod of approval. This was almost another oddity because they could only guess his age at about five years old, but evidently the boy could read at a nominal level; at least he knew the alphabet and had some kind of language skills which allowed him to communicate at a level which Danny was slowly uncovering bit by bit. It all tallied up to one interesting truth: somewhere along the way, some decent schooling and proper instruction had been ingrained in the boy.

"Commander, I need an hour or two to find a temporary placement for him ...," Angela Marcos was saying, hesitating when Steve shook his head. "I have a few options in mind ..."

"I believe we have an emergency situation," Steve said. "I'd like your Department or the Court, or the Governor if I have to go up the food chain, to give me temporary custody ... at least through the weekend ..."

Steve paused, surprised by what he'd just suggested. He hadn't realized where his feelings had gone. But as the words were voiced in the air between them, it felt right. If the boy might be in danger, there'd be no safer place in the world than with himself and Danny.

"Yeah ... at least for the weekend," he re-iterated more firmly. He turned to face Angela Marcos, hands on hips, and smiled. "It's in his best interests and will give you ample time to find the right place for him; a foster situation that can adequately handle his special needs. Let's not just dump him somewhere, all right? Let's think about this ... he's scared enough. Not being able to communicate, is just ... it's just mean."

"I don't just _dump_ my kids anywhere," Angela remarked, offended by the comment until Steve held up his hand in apology. She made a thoughtful face then as she tried to reconcile his suggestion with her usual protocol. She groaned in indecision, not completely convinced to follow the path he'd recommended.

"Commander that's not _really_ appropriate ...," she tried one more time, her own argument weakening and losing steam, when she was interrupted by Danny's voice. He'd evidently started to multi-task and eaves-drop on their conversation.

"Appropriate?" Danny noted sarcastically. He was making sure the child couldn't see his face as he spoke to them. "There's not a single thing appropriate about this situation!"

"Exactly," Steve also argued in kind though his face remained impassive to avoid inadvertently upsetting the little boy.

"It's not like anyone is prepared right now. It's getting later and later ... it's well after dinner time. Plus, it's the start of a holiday weekend. If and when his mother is released from the hospital, she's not going to pass go; she's going to be charged with a number of felony counts, duly arrested, and promptly taken to jail. Then what, Angela? What happens to the kid? You need time to locate a suitable foster situation or to get the Court to approve a shelter. So tell me, how is me accepting responsibility a problem? At least in the last few hours, he's gotten to know me and my partner. He trusts us more than any single person here right now. How is it fair to shuttle a five year old off in the middle of the night to another bunch of strangers after he's seen his mother like this?"

"And by the way," Danny offered somewhat smugly. "Some sort of speech therapy and schooling was accomplished along the way ...he's not been completely neglected at all. There's some kind of history here. No matter what though, we're not going to find any relatives to take him tonight or …. even a neighbor to interrogate … someone we can approach and get some answers from. He doesn't seem to know where he lives - or he, uh, at least doesn't have an address that makes sense to me. I can't quite figure out his last name either … but I'm pretty sure that his first name is C.J."

Steve stared hard at Danny, once more amazed.

"C.J.?" Steve repeated. He smiled warmly when the little boy looked from Danny to him, and then back to Danny again. He was still uncertain, still nervous - and who could blame him - but much calmer.

"We did good, right?" Danny smiled down at the boy, changing gears to give him his undivided attention. Tapping his chest, Danny repeated the two hand motions Steve had seen before.

"C ... J," Danny said as he made the obvious shape with his hand before sticking his pinky finger out and dipping his hand to draw what Steve could now accept as the letter 'j' in the air.

Even if C.J. might still be a bit scared, gazing up at Danny's profile, he looked absolutely pleased with the goings-on. As if he and Danny had figured out the biggest and most special secret in the whole world. But his smile faltered when he saw both Steve and the CPS representative watching them. As his eyes settled on Angela Marco's face, no matter how kind the woman was, C.J. leaned into Danny's side. He tucked himself closer, his hand seeking out Danny's.

"It's okay," Danny crooned softly as he bent down, first kissing the boy's cheek, before making sure he could see his face in order to read his lips. "It's okay."

Steve turned back towards the representative, folding his arms comfortably over his chest. He had no idea how Danny had figured any of that out in the first place, but he couldn't be more proud.

"There you have it," Steve said to Marcos. "Listen, it's a long, holiday weekend and it's obvious that he's comfortable with me and my partner … for his sake, for a day or two and until you figure things out internally and line up appropriate care, there's zero harm and a ton of benefit with putting this into motion. There's no safer place for C.J. as my team and HPD clear any larger issues up, too. We've got nothing and you can't just stick him in the system in the middle of the night," he whispered urgently when Angela didn't respond.

"We don't even know who his mother is and we need more time, too, because right now everyone is just guessing. If we can't tease a last name or home address from C.J., my team and HPD will be running background checks on the mother once we get medical clearance for questioning. It's a sound argument … it offers him a little bit of consistency, too."

"By law, if we think he's in danger, he can be placed in protective custody for 72 hours," Danny quoted calmly from where he was still leaning up against the car. He had his arm around C.J.'s shoulders and had the little boy cuddled protectively into his side.

"We'd be in our rights to take him into protective custody until Tuesday morning which would give you time to setup not just any family, but the _best_ family capable of his special needs; by that time, we'd have a better handle on the mother's condition, too. With luck, we might even track down a family member or two to make placement a moot point."

As Danny completed his short diatribe, his tone smug and confident, Steve's eyes widened because he didn't even know these legal particulars. If Danny were right, and he most certainly was, the time allotted would be a boon for everyone involved.

"Really?" Steve breathed out, impressed. In response, Danny merely raised an eyebrow when their eyes met. He shrugged as if it were nothing at all, but made a point of tucking C.J. comfortably against him. The shared message was clearly communicated. He and Steve were absolutely on the same page ... but then again, they always were despite their passive-aggressive verbal sparring.

"All right ... but," Angela Marcos began to say, startled when their important discussion was interrupted by a new voice.

"Commander? Excuse me?"

The HPD officer who'd called out was trotting over, a plush toy in hand. "We had this in one of our cars … maybe he'd like it?"

"Oh I bet he would!" Steve gushed happily. He grinned as he took the toy from the officer and then showed it to C.J.

"How's this, _huh_?!" He asked as he quickly walked over to the Camaro. "It's for you." Steve explained when C.J. hesitated to take the tawny colored lion from him.

He gently insisted with Danny helping by giving C.J. a friendly nudge and a huge smile. When C.J. finally took the toy, he wrapped his arms around it and buried his face in its thick fake ruff. When he peeked out at Steve, his eyes were big and his expression very serious. Then he tapped two fingers near his lips before moving his hand in Steve's direction, palm out flat.

"Huh. That's what he did before …. in the bathroom with the juice box," Danny remarked, his grin growing in spades. "So yeah ... I was right. He just thanked you. He's a polite little guy ... someone knows his manners."

"He did at that; and I think he might know a lot more, too," Steve mused softly. Something more was going on here and Steve was growing more and more determined to find out its intricacies. Now though, he focused on the child. He pointed meaningfully to C.J. and resorted to giving the boy a happy shaka sign. "You are welcome!" Even with the toy in his arms, C.J. was far too serious and Steve wanted to see more of that smile. With an even bigger grin, Steve gave him another shaka sign. He pointed to the lion and did it a third time, making a show of the gift.

It was all good enough as C.J. dared to giggle at his antics, a soft breathy tonal sound compounded by a childish shaka in return. The two stared at each other for a minute, grinning at each other until C.J. shyly ducked away for a second, hiding his face back in the toy's fuzzy ruff. He was smiling as he peeked back out playfully.

Steve had to look at his partner before he swallowed hard to get an absurdly large feeling of protectiveness firmly under wraps.

"C.J.," Steve repeated under his breath. Clearing his throat, he held his ground when he turned to address Angela Marcos. "Let's do this … all right?" He looked at the woman, immovable. His mind had been made up.

With a wry grin, Angela nodded in agreement.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	5. Chapter 5

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Peeking out through the plush lion's orangey mane, C.J. watched the goings on with wary interest. He knew that he was the subject of conversation between the police and a new woman who had shown up, and he was struggling not to cry all over again. He was scared, tired and confused; not sure of what to do next because he knew that they were going to make him leave with the woman. And all he wanted was his mommy. He sniffed as tears tickled his eyes and he rubbed his face in the back of the toy to itch them away.

Tugging on Danny's hand, he tapped his thumb against his chin, his other four fingers splayed wide like a small fan. He asked his question, lip trembling, disappointed when Danny made a sad face. The man didn't understand. But at least they knew each others' names now and C.J. had started to feel safe with the policeman. Well, he'd at least started to feel safe until this woman had shown up. Her car had a special sign on its door. It meant something like the police. C.J. knew though, the white and blue sign was about kids and not so much about catching bad guys like the police did. He'd seen kids taken away inside cars with signs like that ... so he might go away too. That would be bad because his mommy wouldn't be able to find him again. She wouldn't know where to look and he wouldn't be able to tell her.

Trying again, C.J. looked up into Danny's face and tapped his thumb even harder to his chin. Asking and asking. Instead of answering him though, Danny gave him a kind smile while wiping away the one hot tear that had begun to trickle down his cheek. Before C.J. could hitch in a sharp breath of air, Danny kissed his forehead next and C.J. managed to quiet his tears. Danny was nice and wouldn't let anything bad happen.

But C.J. also knew that Danny wanted to know lots more. Things like where he and his mother had come from. Where they lived. But C.J. didn't know how to say it all so that Danny would understand. Besides, C.J. probably couldn't get back to the old car he and his mother had been living in anyway. There were too many streets and they'd taken a much different walk that day; another very long walk during which C.J. had given up trying to figure out where they were going. His mother hadn't tried to explain anything to him either. They'd just walked and walked. Then his mother had met some people. Mean people that had looked at him funny. It was there that his mother had gotten the money and the bad powder. After ... after, they'd stopped here at the convenience store and now his mommy was sick and gone. They'd taken her away in an ambulance and C.J. was alone.

C.J. felt his tears coming again. He wanted his daddy, too. But he hadn't seen him in a long time either. C.J. couldn't tell Danny about his father or the too many places they'd lived or when he saw his daddy for the last time. There were too many words and too many finger-signs which Danny wouldn't understand. Other signs which C.J. didn't know how to say.

There were just too many places and people and for as long as he could remember, everything had now become a confusing blur of images. Being different - being deaf - just made it all the more scary. And now, his mother was sick ... gone ... taken away in an ambulance. He'd lost his father. Now his mother and C.J. didn't know what to do.

Frightened and upset when the new woman looked his way again, C.J. shook his head and leaned even closer into Danny. He liked Danny because he _listened_ and had started a game with C.J. and by playing the game, he had _listened_ even more when C.J. had shown him the alphabet. Then helped him to spell out his name. They'd both figured out the policeman's name … _Danny_ … and then his partner's name … _Steve_. But his mother's name ... _Jory_ ... was harder and Danny wasn't sure he'd understood even though C.J. was sure he'd spelled his mother's name right.

But, his last name was impossible, and C.J. just wasn't sure of all the right letters. Thinking about it, he stifled another sniffle ... and then a yawn. He was suddenly tired and feeling cold. Comforted when Danny pulled him closer still, C.J.'s eyes dipped lower. Nevertheless, even through heavy eyes, he watched Steve talk to the woman who had gotten out of the scary car. Because of her, C.J. couldn't completely relax.

Steve had been in deep conversation with her for a long time. When Steve looked at him and then to Danny, he smiled and then folded his arms over his chest. Something different was happening and C.J. had missed it, but Steve seemed happier. Staying close to Danny so he could feel him, C.J. made himself sit up. He could feel the talking even if he missed the words ... and he could understand the intent based on cadence and strength of vibration. Cuddled into Danny's body, hugging his new lion, the sound of Danny's voice reverberated into C.J. at a steady pace, and he liked the way it felt. Danny wasn't mad or yelling. He was just _talking_. Sometimes his mother would read to him in bed and C.J. would just look at the pictures on the page, not caring what his mother might really be saying. Feeling Danny talk, felt safe like that and C.J. relaxed a bit more. He watched as Steve talked to the woman; he watched as Steve's smile grew and the new woman looked more and more ... confused.

A minute later, Danny was trying to say something to C.J. and based on Steve's answering smile and the way he held his hand out to him, C.J. knew that he didn't have to go with the woman. In fact, the woman was shaking Steve's hand and then ... walking away. Surprised, C.J.'s eyes were huge when Danny picked him up, making sure he still had his new toy tucked safely between them. Danny was pointing to the black car - to him - then back to Danny and to Steve. Steve swung a key chain around his finger. It was the key to the black car and C.J. blinked, so surprised because he'd be able to stay with the policemen. At least for a little while.

_But?_ C.J. shook his head. He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell Steve that he knew his name, too. C.J. tapped Danny's shoulders asking to be put down, which Danny did. Then he bravely stood in front of Steve and looked up at him. He took a deep breath and pointed to Steve's chest before slowly signing 's', 't', 'e', 'v', 'e'.

The first letter was like a fist, and the 't' was just a bit different. Carefully, C.J. finished spelling Steve's name, letter by letter. His name was an easy one for C.J. but he was still very proud when he finished. Then he waited as Danny stepped forward because Steve seemed confused. C.J. waited for Danny to show Steve the paper they'd been using to practice the alphabet and to make words out of the letters which C.J. had spelled with his fingers. It had been a slow game, but fun, and C.J. was excited. He forgot about crying because he wanted Steve to know that he knew how to spell his name, too.

When Danny was done talking to Steve, C.J. pointed to Steve again and then spelled out his name for a second time. Going slow, C.J. used his fingers to sign each letter. The 's', which was like that small fist-shape, then the 't', followed by the 'e', 'v', and the last 'e'.

Now, C.J. looked up at both men for approval, grinning when Danny gave him a thumbs up sign and Steve, a shaka. Grinning happily, tears completely forgotten, C.J. pointed to Danny and then spelled out his name only because he could. He giggled when Danny bent down to kneel to join him, copying the finger-spelling letter for letter.

First the 'd', then the 'a', two letter 'n's and the final 'y'. When they finished, Danny planted a silly kiss on his forehead and picked him back up. The best surprise though was when Steve tapped his shoulder and quickly signed C.J.'s shorter name.

The simple 'c' and then the fluid motion of the 'j' and for the first time in a long time, C.J. really smiled before he dared to laugh out loud.

**H5O* H5O**

Pulling out the uncomfortable chair to the small desk in his drab motel room, Mitchell Bernfeld sat down with a thump and let go with a sigh which was so loud, it was nearly a groan. He stretched his arms over his head until his back cracked. He'd been running on fumes for so any days, he'd lost count. Denver to Phoenix, and the first black hole. A slim lead he'd finally sniffed out in Phoenix had eventually taken him to Mexicali and then to the outskirts of San Diego. He was tired and he wanted to take a day off; hang down by the little motel swimming pool. Sit in the sun. Talk to a cute girl, if he could find one ... weak umbrella drink in hand.

But he wasn't being paid for lazy, he was being paid for his diligence in maintaining a near-perfect case record. He didn't come cheap, but he always delivered to his clients: _always _and with such an impressive reputation in hand, he now had carte blanche to run down his latest quarry to the ends of the earth if need-be.

"Damn it. Where the hell are you," he said to himself while squinting painfully at his laptop screen and fumbling one-handed through a bulky wad of napkins for the wrapped sandwich at the bottom of a large delicatessen bag. With his other hand, he flicked through online police reports for news related to just about everything. Bernfeld wasn't a picky sort and he'd learned over time that the most obtuse of sources could provide the most providential of leads. He sniffed in derision though as he took a bite of his sandwich, dropping greasy crumbs onto the desk itself. His idle searching had prompted results from police blotters across _Hawaii_.

That was different and Bernfeld sucked in his lower lip in consideration. Obtuse? Certainly. How they'd get off the mainland and over to an exotic island seemed downright impossible and it probably was, but they'd evaded him far too cleanly this time. With all his leads downright dried up to dust, he was sick of prowling San Diego and sitting in lousy hotel rooms during downtime, fruitlessly searching online police reports. So, he tapped through to the first blotter for Oahu. He scanned the reports as he ate, half-interested at first until a certain update caught his eye.

"Holy shit," he whispered softly, utterly intrigued by a variety of what-ifs. Released just one day prior, the succinct report of a young comatose Jane Doe at a Honolulu General Hospital simply ... fit. The gentle request for someone to step forward with information held a desperate undertone of sorts which gave Bernfeld pause; it prompted doubts which he tried to talk himself out of and failed. What else did he have besides a fat expense account?

_Nothing_ except that fat expense account, a fine reputation to uphold and a desperate need to get out of California. Not to mention a feeling of rightness which was suddenly prickling the hair on the back of his neck.

He had to do it and take the chance. Acting on impulse, Bernfeld put down what was left of his sandwich and picked up his cell phone. If he checked out now, he wouldn't even be charged another night at the hotel, if that even mattered.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	6. Chapter 6

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"He's still scared," Steve stated the obvious as they finally got to the house after hours of necessary red-tape, including a quick once-over by a pediatrician to ensure that C.J. was in decent health. Which he thankfully was, allowing all concerned to breathe out a collective sigh of relief. The scene had been ugly and threatened to be a tip of an even uglier iceberg. At least the child had no outward signs of abuse and that was a happy boon; it also took some of the adult's emotional heat off the young mother, giving her just a tiny bit of a break. And to be fair, they all needed to do that and not jump to too many conclusions.

While Danny held him now, Steve gently rubbed his knuckles across C.J.'s cheek. Instead of smiling back, C.J. closed eyes before he buried his face in Danny's neck, hiding away from him, his limbs hanging long and loose as he barely hung on to Danny's shoulders.

"He's exhausted and he's going to sleep," Danny replied as he gently re-adjusted the child. "No matter what we think, his whole world's been turned upside down. I'm glad he ate a little bit at the hospital, but he needs a good night's sleep. I think he'll be fine in Charlie's room."

"We're only fractionally better," Steve noted quietly. "I don't know how we're going to explain his mother to him." Steve sighed as he followed Danny down the hallway towards Charlie's bedroom, the toy lion tucked under his own arm. The "assumed to be mother" had taken a turn for the worse while C.J. was getting that brief physical and her doctors were struggling to keep the woman alive.

"We'll cross that bridge tomorrow," Danny whispered. "But I _know_ he's better here with us right now. It's been a traumatic enough day for him; he didn't need to be shuttled around to more folks he wouldn't know ... taken god-knows where. He trusts us. At least a little bit."

"He doesn't really even know us Danno," Steve tried to object next, though he was pleased with how things had gone. Their eyes briefly met and Danny smiled as he automatically soothed a warm circle over C.J.'s back. They'd lost their weekend together yet Danny was in his element and already well-entrenched with the child, the crime scene, and wanting to be able to find out every single mystery surrounding the boy and his mother's existence. He was one hundred and ten percent vested in C.J.'s well-being. And quite honestly, so was Steve which was a little startling to realize after only a few hours.

"True. But he's already more comfortable with me and you … he knows at least we're the good guys. Geez, why am I whispering," Danny softly chided himself as he carried the sleepy boy to bed, gently laying him down when Steve pulled back the covers. He paused to brush C.J.'s long bangs from his forehead much as he would for his own son, grinning when the boy instinctively squirreled over onto his stomach.

"Besides ... none of this makes sense. Where would she get over fifteen thousand dollars in loose, small bills? The gun? Another twenty-five thousand in drugs? And then this little man? He could be in danger, Steve, if nothing more than as payback for whatever it is this lady's involved with ... we've seen it before. I can just about guarantee that someone's out there right now, looking for that cash and the drugs and maybe willing to do anything to get it all back."

"Yeah, we sure have and you're right," Steve said with a soft sigh. "Maybe we're ahead of the curve this time ... in the very least, this little guy's safe."

He couldn't help frowning in consideration because, like Danny, he was continually mulling over the details about the budding case. So much didn't make sense and they'd already decided to take a calculated risk in not blocking the arrest details to the public on their sketchy Jane Doe. However, that release of information had been heavily edited. Even if it might have yielded much faster results, no one dared risk the child by hanging him out at arm's length like some dispensable carrot of sorts. The HPD blotter had intentionally omitted the existence of the child as they tried to track down who and where the woman might have come from — baby-steps in starting to flush out potential accomplices. Other intel would be gathered on the street. Coconut wire; whatever it took, but in person and with utmost care.

Danny was already thumbing on a night light and leaving the bedroom when Steve put the toy lion on the edge of the bed where C.J. might see it if he should wake up. "Sleep tight buddy," he whispered as he bent down to tuck a light blanket around the sleeping child, shaking his head helplessly because the boy was sound asleep and he was indeed still whispering.

**H5O* H5O**

It was the middle of the night when Steve finally gave up trying to shut his brain off. Danny had snuck out of their room a few times to check in on C.J., making sure the boy was still peacefully asleep. He had been. Still on his stomach, hadn't so much as twitched according to his partner. Now though, Danny was out for the count and he merely turned over away from Steve, grumbling something inane as Steve eased himself to his feet. He stood over Danny for a moment, just watching him sleep, amused when Danny re-arranged himself to where he'd been. Limbs flung wide, Danny automatically encroached Steve's space. He was a back-sleeper with a penchant for taking up more than his share of the bed. He had no concept of personal space in their bedroom or even elsewhere come to think of it and Steve had to bite back a chuckle as he watched Danny unconsciously have the gall to steal his pillow, too. Payback would be fun ... later.

Steve probably should have tried harder to sleep, however he simply couldn't be bothered by that point. Old habits were hard to break and when his mind wouldn't shut off, giving in was simply the better and easier option. He left the room silently, his own check on C.J. happily finding the same as Danny had reported earlier.

He opted to sit quietly at the kitchen table in the half light cast by his laptop, searching the internet and reading while simultaneously sharing a few messages with Jerry Ortega who was busily investigating missing children on their behalf. Evidently Jerry was also a light sleeper or just a night owl. After conversing with the man, Steve grinned to himself after reading a rather obtuse reply and decided on the latter. As their resident conspiracy theorist, Jerry's innately suspicious nature seemed to cater to limited sleep and a desire to stay up late poking into the most dusty of corners. When it came to possibly learning more about C.J., crazily enough, having Jerry run point made sense. He'd look where no one might even think, and for that, Steve found himself satisfied.

"Well that just doesn't even make sense, Jer," Steve chuckled to himself as his instant messenger feature softly chimed again. Using social media and an alias, Jerry had taken the initiative to leak some additional but still very basic information about their Jane Doe, angling for someone to step forward to I.D. the woman. Mention of the convenience store ... a faked sense of amazement about the large volume cash on her person ... use of Jordy's name. These were things Jerry could get away with. A different approach indeed, and if the tactic got them something in the end, then Steve wasn't going to gripe too much. What Jerry was doing didn't quite need to make sense to him, it only had to make sense to the other night-owls prowling the net.

As he typed back a brief reply of his own, Steve heard him before he even got to the kitchen. The light patter of feet; a congested sniffle. Steve was getting to his feet just as C.J. rounded the corner to the kitchen, bolting into his arms without a second thought.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's this?," Steve murmured as he caught up the sobbing child, smiling sadly to himself as small fingers latched onto this shirt. "What happened, huh? Bad dream?" He guessed wisely as he rubbed C.J.'s back and kissed the side of the boy's over-heated cheek. Not that Steve had expected one, but of course C.J. didn't answer him. He was trembling and snuffling loudly, his hands linked tightly now round Steve's neck. That was enough of a clue. Either a bad dream or the little boy was just plain scared; and really, what did it matter?

"You're okay. You're safe here," he soothed repeatedly, hoping that C.J. would at least feel his voice. "Easy, baby … easy," Steve whispered when trying to untangle the small body got him nowhere at all. With no recourse but to wait out the tears, Steve began to pace the kitchen, gently swaying and bouncing the child in his arms. When C.J. finally seemed to quiet enough, Steve dared to ease himself down into a chair by the table.

"Here, let's try something," Steve said, leaning back trying to see the boy's face, using his hand to wipe what was left of the flood of tears away. "You're okay," he repeated, smiling gently, when C.J. finally looked up at him.

Until C.J. had woken, Steve had specifically been searching the internet to get more information on American sign language to further what Danny had begun. Besides keeping C.J.'s trust and a simple need to communicate with the boy on a basic level, they also needed a way to determine if C.J. might also be to tell them more about where he'd been living, more about his mother ... if he had a family. Better yet, if the child might know any of the people revolving within his mother's dangerous circle.

"Look," Steve said. He pointed to the computer screen. In the short time he'd been searching, Steve had learned a few things. Plus Danny's notes were on the kitchen table - the handwritten alphabet and snippets of hand gestures - notes that were just enough to have gotten the ball rolling in a positive direction. So, Steve pulled them out again and put them next to the computer, knowing that C.J. would understand. As usual, what Danny had apparently figured out by intuition and pantomime had uncovered a few things. He'd done an unusually excellent job and Steve grinned as C.J. heaved in a watery sigh, his expression calming, his head resting against Steve's shoulder. He was watching.

Tapping his palm to his chest, Steve then pressed his pointer and middle fingers together on each hand while tucking his others into his palm. With C.J. cuddled in his lap, Steve formed an x-shape, his extended fingers on top of the other. He tapped them together.

"My name is ….," Steve said as C.J. watched his hands then looked into his face, his expression now one of surprise. "Ah, you do know this," Steve noted with a bigger smile when C.J. nodded. It was just a little bit more than Danny had done and his grin turned even a bit more cocky when C.J.'s reaction proved he was doing it right.

Exaggerating his facial expression, Steve lifted an eyebrow and grinned at C.J. as he very slowly spelled out his own name. The American sign language online hints had clearly showed the alphabet and since Danny and C.J. had already gotten that far on paper, re-confirming Steve's name was easy enough.

C.J. grinned back through his tears, nodding more vigorously as Steve finished spelling his name. Then C.J. mimicked the same thing Steve had just done by tapping his own small chest and using his fingers much the same way to make that x-shape.

_'My name is CJ'_ ... the letters were astonishingly clear now and Steve nodded before proving he'd learned something even more.

"Yes," he said at the same time he made a fist which he rocked back and forth in C.J.'s direction. "Yes. I got it," Steve added, chuckling when the little boy made a fist of his own, rocking it triumphantly.

_'Yes!' _The hesitant smile on C.J.'s face proved that Steve had gotten it all right for sure.

"All right then ... ," Steve started to say, stopping entirely when C.J. lost his small smile to a sad sniffle. "What's this?" He asked gently. Steve pointed at the boy, shrugging helplessly for emphasis. _How could he help? What was wrong?_

It was obvious that the boy understood his unspoken question. He understood that Steve wanted more, but for a long moment, C.J. did nothing.

"Tell me," Steve pressed. "Try." Unsure of what to do, Steve jiggled the boy gently on his knee and shrugged again. This time, Steve pointed to his own head and face, intentionally trying to look sad ... maybe even a little bit scared.

Measuring him closely, C.J. nodded. He took a deep breath and held one hand to the side of his head, pointer finger raised high. He looked at Steve as he moved that finger out before holding both hands wide in front of his chest as if shaking in fear. Then he tapped his head again, his eyes welling with tears, his breath hitching.

"You had a bad dream," Steve noted as he kissed the top of the boy's head, tucking him in tight, allowing him to snuggle closer into his chest. "You're safe here … it's okay, C.J.," he said when he felt little fingers digging into his shirt again.

Bending his head down, Steve caught C.J.'s eyes and smiled. "You're safe," Steve repeated, wishing he knew how to communicate better. "Promise ... it's okay."

The boy bit his lip though, his eyes still full of tears as he stared into Steve's face. As he'd done earlier in the day, he opened his right hand and tapped his chin with his thumb, his other fingers splayed wide. He did it a few times, switching to tapping his forehead, and growing more upset by the second when Steve didn't understand.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, perplexed by the introduction of this new, second sign. He frowned, angry only with himself. "Let's start here, okay?"

It was easier to confirm what they already were learning about each other. So now, Steve tried to change the subject. Capitalizing on the concepts of the things they could share, he swung his laptop towards him and took a chance at typing in a search for 'how to finger sign having a bad dream' in ASL. The results were spot-on and Steve rubbed C.J.'s arm to get his attention.

"Okay, here's one. Look … here, look," Steve said when the short video came up on a basic sign language website and the video-based instructor showed a near-identical example of what C.J. had just said. He tapped the screen and then glanced down at the child on his lap, happy to see C.J. was interested in the video. Their eyes met when it ended and C.J. made a fist. Steve won that rocking fist again for a resounding yes, even if the boy's face remained saddened.

_'Yes?' _Steve asked using his own fist and C.J. nodded this time. He repeated his initial signs. Faster though since he and Steve had indeed figured out another layer of communication. This time, C.J. rapidly re-signed the letter Steve now saw was the letter 'D' by the side of his head and then, using both hands, the emphatic sign for _nightmare_. Precisely the same as in the video.

Despite the success, his face began to crumple. As it did, C.J. opened his hand to tap his chin with his thumb once more, his other fingers splayed wide. Steve could practically feel C.J.'s sadness and disappointment growing.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry … I'll figure it out. No, no. Don't cry," Steve whispered, vainly trying to shush the boy's tears by stroking the flushed cheeks and kissing the top of his head. "I'll figure it out. I will …."

C.J. had had enough though. He was done with trying to _talk_ and Steve stopped as the boy buried his face in his chest.

"You need a good night's sleep, buddy. We'll get this all figured out in a day or two; I promise," Steve murmured. He glanced at the video on his laptop, his expression grim. It was repeating itself in an endless loop and his eyes flickered over the menu of options. The website was a good one for basic sign language hints and tips covering essential, every day words for children. Though he'd assumed he'd only need a day or two, he'd now be spending a great deal more time on it - overnight if necessary. Steve was sure there were some decent things he could learn to make C.J. feel more at ease no matter how short a time he'd be in their care. Sighing about the present issue in hand as C.J. rested more heavily against his chest, his red-rimmed eyes begging to close, Steve got to his feet with the boy cradled in his arms.

"Time for bed," he said as he bent his head to catch his eye. "Sleep. Bed," he repeated slowly, mentally promising to learn those words too. He wanted more, so much more now and the list of basic words was growing in leaps and bounds. He stayed quiet as he coaxed C.J. back to bed, fluffing pillows and making sure the lion toy was within easy reach. Steve stayed there, too, rubbing circles on C.J.'s back until he fell asleep, with one arm flung over his toy.

"Everything okay?" Danny asked meeting Steve in the hallway, just as he was leaving Charlie's bedroom. "Is he okay?" He appeared in front of Steve in the dimly lit hallway, barefoot, hair disheveled from sleep and yawning widely.

"Yeah" Steve whispered. "He's fine." Unable to keep himself from smiling as he took in Danny's rumpled appearance. Barefoot, hair every which way but right, Danny was bleary-eyed and yawing widely. "He had a bad dream … seems okay now."

Danny raised an eyebrow but didn't question more as he silently padded after Steve, following him down the hallway and back to the kitchen. Watching Steve as he sat back down in his chair with a weary groan.

"What's this? Just ... how _long_ have you been up?" Danny asked incredulously as he looked at the computer screen over Steve's shoulder. "Baby sign language dot com? Is this what you've been doing in the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep; was IM'ing Jerry and then C.J. came in," Steve explained tiredly. "He was upset; crying. I'd already stumbled over the site, showed it to him, and it helped because C.J. had _really_ signed that he'd had a bad dream … the video confirmed it. So, you're definitely right that he's had some decent level of instruction somewhere along the line. Tomorrow if he's up to it, maybe we can tease a few more things out of him."

"That's pretty cool," Danny said, impressed. But Danny chuckled as he held his hand in front of Steve's nose. "I love this. Don't you think it's kind of fitting that your name .. the letter 'S' ….starts out like this ... like a fist, don't you think?"

"The things you think of ...," Steve said as he rolled his eyes. "Is that the best you can do?" His complaint was weak though and his voice trailed away. Steve was clearly distracted and not in the mood to banter with his partner. Danny seemed to sense it as he leaned down to rest his chin on Steve's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Danny whispered.

"He keeps repeating that other sign," Steve said. "And now there's a new one. He's beside himself that I didn't get it; and then he added this other one. It's almost the same."

Steve splayed his fingers and tapped his chin with his thumb, before doing the same against his forehead. "I need to figure this out. For his sake."

"It's late. Can't we pick this up in the morning?" Danny asked as he wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders. He leaned forward, closer, his temple pressed comfortingly to Steve's as encouragement to come back to bed but Steve merely shook his head.

"Can't wait ...," he insisted.

"Stubborn," Danny murmured as he kissed Steve's cheek.

"Takes one, Danno," Steve whispered as he turned his head to gently capture Danny's lips, their kiss chaste and simple. "I have to look … won't take long ... he's upset. It's important."

"I know," Danny said around a gentle and very understanding smile. "So? Let's see what we can find out. Go ahead ... let's page through this site you've found. Maybe it's here."

With Danny over his shoulder, Steve picked and pecked at words until he got to one in particular. It really didn't take long to find the answer. In fact, it was almost way too easy and the two of them practically caught their breath at the same time.

"Wow," Danny choked out, his eyes huge as he watched the video loop through a second time.

"Geez," Steve hissed through his teeth, entirely surprised, though he shouldn't have been. "He was asking about his mother?" Feeling the shock clear down to his toes, Steve wanted to shoot himself for missing the obvious. "God, I am so stupid! He wants his mother?!"

"Yeah, hold on," Danny said, voice tight. He was leaning over Steve now and rapidly paging through the website, his expression severe. It took him no time at all to find the description of the second sign which Steve had shown him.

"So ... he's got a father, too," Danny added softly. He tapped the computer screen as the second video began to loop through a demonstration by a pleasant looking woman - fingers splayed wide, thumb to forehead - of how to make the sign for _dad_ or _daddy_.

Unconsciously glancing towards the bedroom where the little boy was sleeping, Steve inexplicably felt his heart sink. _C.J. had a father._

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Thank you so much to Phoebe - and to Jazzie. You two are awesome. Thank you!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

C.J.'s tummy felt funny when he woke the next morning. He was scared ... but hungry, too. At least he thought he was hungry as he sniffed the air, thinking that he knew why. Something smelled really good. Like bacon or pancakes, and C.J. felt bubbles moving inside his tummy. Someone was making a _real_ breakfast. But as he looked around the strange room, he grew more confused and even a little bit more scared. He had to be in the wrong place.

There were toy race-cars everywhere or things which had toy cars on them. Things like curtains and even his blankets.

It was a little boy's room with lots of fun things. Nothing was broken or ripped up; there were no holes in the wall or paint chipped away. The colors were fresh and clean ... and everything looked like a real, live racetrack. C.J. slowly sat up, pulling his toy lion tightly into his chest.

_'C.J.?'_ A picture of a pretty lady popped into his head completely by surprise. She looked just like his mommy as she signed his name, but he knew this lady wasn't. He blinked thinking hard, trying to remember her better. It was old and far away inside his head, but he remembered long, wavy black hair and pretty bows. A sunshine dress. Being happy.

He raised his hand, his fingers automatically curving into the letter 'a'. He rocked his fingers in that shape by his cheek and his bottom lip began to tremble. He missed her as much as he missed his mommy. She was _real_ and warm and happy. She smelled like cookies and ... horses. And then the old picture in his head added in his mother and big green fields that never ended. If he couldn't have his mommy, why not her?

_She had a name, too_. He tried to remember how to spell it the long way. Letter by letter. But he couldn't do it. There were lots of letters and he came back to the simple finger-sign. It mattered that he couldn't spell her name and yet it didn't matter because C.J. knew who she was. He knew that they had all belonged together a long time ago ... _before_ his daddy came back. Now, things were black and dark; too confusing and always scary.

When a sniffle itched his nose, C.J. rubbed at his face and his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked around the room again, not sure what to do, feeling sad about his mommy, wanting this lady who he knew was his mommy's sister, and feeling very alone. C.J. turned to his lion while his eyes welled up with fresh tears. He became even more sad when he finally remembered talking with Steve in the dark kitchen and then … Danny. This place wasn't for him. It was for some other little boy and he wanted his mommy. He wanted his aunt ... if he could find her.

_'Hi,'_ he signed to Lion first, saying hi and then the toy's name. _'Hi Lion.' _He stared into Lion's shiny golden eyes for a minute before opening his right hand, thumb to chin to ask Lion if maybe he knew.

_'Mommy?' _C.J. asked Lion, tapping his thumb a bit harder as a tear spilled over to roll down his cheek before asking about his aunt ... wondering if Lion knew some other secret.

_'My aunt? Do you know her?' _He stared and waited, looking into Lion's glimmering eyes. He waited a long time for something to happen. But Lion didn't know either and C.J. finally stopped looking at him. He looked around the room again. There was a picture in a red race-car frame. C.J. recognized Danny but not the little boy he was holding. A little boy with blond hair who sort of looked like Danny and C.J. wondered about that until a dark shadow crossed over his face. He blinked, startled and looked up to where Steve was now standing in the doorway. He looked happy that C.J. was awake then sad when he saw C.J. crying.

_'Mommy?'_ He signed the question to Steve as he sat down on the edge of the bed. _'Mommy?'_ C.J. repeated, believing that Steve wouldn't know anymore than he had in the dark kitchen, his thumb to his still quivering chin, his other fingers spread wide. Feeling more and more sad, C.J. knew that Steve wouldn't be able to tell him anything just like Lion couldn't.

But this time, Steve surprised him by first thumbing the tears off his cheek and then by holding one finger up for C.J. to wait; to watch him. C.J. looked at Steve's mouth because he was talking at the same time, but it was too fast and C.J. switched back to Steve's hands. His fingers were moving in a very special way.

Pointing towards C.J. first, Steve opened his right hand and tapped his thumb to his chin. _'Your ... mommy ...' _

C.J. glanced up to Steve's face, so surprised. Cautiously, C.J. made the same sign to be sure and Steve nodded, saying '_mommy_' again. He kept smiling at him as he continued on by touching his middle finger to his forehead and the middle finger of his other hand to his own tummy. Steve made a funny face, too, as if he might be sick, and then signed _mommy_ before repeating the sign for ... _sick_.

_'C.J.s mommy was sick ...'_

But Steve didn't stop there either as C.J. sat there watching him. Instead, Steve tapped three fingers to his opposite wrist. _What? No._ C.J. didn't like that and he shook his head, not sure if Steve meant that word or not until Steve tapped his wrist again. His face was very serious now, so he really meant it.

_'Doctor.' _Steve signed.

C.J.'s eyes grew wider still as Steve did all of the the signs again. He pointed towards C.J., signed _mommy_ and then that same sign for being _sick_. The finger sign for _doctor_ came last and then Steve started over, repeating himself for the third time. Steve wanted to make sure that he got it right and that C.J. understood what he was trying to say.

_'C.J.s mommy was sick ... and with a doctor.'_

C.J. swallowed hard and finally nodded, his eyes were filling with tears again though. He was still scared. He didn't want his mother to be sick. He understood, but didn't know what to say or do. If his mommy was really sick and with a doctor, then how could he get to see her again? How could he ask about finding his aunt? What was going to happen next? He didn't even know where his daddy was to tell him either ... to ask him for help even if his daddy might only look mad or leave them all alone again. In fact, C.J. had made a mistake signing for his daddy in the first place. He never should have tried to ask for him.

When C.J. didn't do anything, Steve looked worried. He turned away to look over his shoulder. Through his tears, C.J. saw Danny in the doorway to the bedroom watching them both and then Steve turned back around, still looking worried and not sure if C.J. really understood his words. But he did understand.

Pointing to himself, C.J. repeated Steve's signs. If he was more fluid, faster and concise, C.J. didn't know it. He only knew that when he finished, Steve looked a little bit happier.

_'My mommy is sick,_' C.J. said. _'Sick and with a doctor.'_

Looking relieved, Steve grinned before quickly nodding and placing a kiss on the top of C.J.'s head. He pursed his lips dramatically to inhale and then exhale, his whole body moving with the bigness of the motions, and C.J. had to smile because Steve was funny ... and he really _was_ so very happy he'd been able to tell C.J. something so very important.

_'Eat?'_ Steve tapped his fingers to his mouth before pointing towards the kitchen and to those wonderful smells of breakfast cooking.

Completely surprised by the question, C.J. kept grinning. Things were scary and not really right, but something good was happening. Just like Danny had done at the store, Steve had managed to learn a few important words. And while C.J. was just a little boy, he knew this was a big deal. It made him feel a lot better than he had been feeling.

Making a fist and rocking it towards Steve, C.J. nodded as his tummy made that bubbly feeling again. _'Yes',_ he said as he kicked the blankets off his legs. He got up, taking Steve's hand, looking up at Danny when they reached him in the doorway.

_'Hi, Danny,'_ C.J. signed quickly, grinning back shyly when Danny gave him a thumbs-up and pointed towards the kitchen. Something did smell really good and C.J.'s nose itched for a new reason now. His tummy made that ticklish, grumbly feeling again and C.J. wanted to have something to eat. He was really hungry.

Looking like he was laughing, Danny gently tipped C.J.'s chin up asking him to watch. Like Steve had just done, Danny closed his thumb against his other four fingers and tapped his hand softly against his mouth a few times.

_'Eat,'_ he said as he playfully tousled C.J.'s hair. He grinned widely when C.J. signed back '_yes_' again. For a minute as they smiled back at each other, C.J. forgot about being so afraid. He held Steve's hand tight as Steve gently swung his arm back and forth. C.J. was safe here and maybe his mommy would be okay. Maybe he could figure out how to ask Danny and Steve about his aunt, too.

**H5O* H5O**

Bernfeld wasn't a man who got angry easily. Anger didn't suit his profession well at all. He was much better served by going with the flow and adapting along the way. A lesser person than he would have been spitting nails though; he'd seen it first hand. Instead, he resigned himself to the bare facts. He'd forgotten it was a holiday weekend and with so many people traveling, there wasn't a flight available to him.

This forgetfulness of his was an oddity prompted by a career choice which often had him on the road for months at a time. Lack of a family and a semblance of a common, normal life brought with it a few strange behaviors. He didn't think about weekends or holidays or taking a vacation; he didn't wonder about Christmases or the joys around Hanukkah. Holiday lights and decorations passed over his eyes and he scarcely bothered to recognize them for what they might be. Pragmatic to the end, a car was as good as its engine. Bernfeld couldn't care a hoot about good weather or bad - unless it affected the job he was on. He didn't get paid for time off or for slowing down. He got paid for results.

Long story, short: with no available flights, he was going to be stuck in this same damned hotel room in Los Angeles until Monday's red-eye to Honolulu. So be it. There was nothing more to be done about the situation.

His softly uttered and very resigned sigh was the only clue about his ire as he sat back down in the small chair by that same lousy desk. What was left of his food was in the small trash bucket and already starting to smell a bit off. He'd thrown it away prematurely. His bed was still in ruins; damp towel from his shower tossed to the floor. Another twenty would get him maid's service to spruce his room back up to snuff and get him some clean towels.

Later; that could wait. Now, he calmly pulled his laptop computer out of its bag and thumbed the lid back open. He wasn't mad, but he sure wasn't happy about things. Nevertheless, he forged on as he always did, switching gears and looking for the opportunity in the most unfortunate of circumstances. He pulled up the online police report which was to blame for this urge of his, trying to decide what about the simplistic report had him so intrigued.

"Jane Doe," he muttered thoughtfully as he re-read each word looking for hidden clues. A hint of a drug overdose. Blatant mention of a severe medical condition; one didn't just fall ... comatose. A plea for someone to come forward with I.D. There was no mention of a child though; nothing at all and little C.J. would be hard to miss with his handicap. The omission was likely intentional to protect the identity of a minor. It smelled as bad as his old deli bag though and Bernfeld made a face. Were the police being protective or intentionally wasting this most obvious carrot because a mere mention of a deaf child might bring down a boatload of trouble on the tyke's head?

Or, maybe Bernfeld was reading into things and looking for something in the impossible. But no ... no this felt right and he needed to get out there to Oahu. For whatever reason, Bernfeld itched inside with a continued sense of purpose as he reread the report.

Marjorie Gardner and her little boy were his top priorities and for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, Bernfeld knew that this Jane Doe was ... _his_. Finding Marjorie Gardner would lead him to the kid, too.

"Where is that damned kid though?" He whispered to himself. Eyes narrowed in distaste for what he was thinking, Bernfeld considered what could have happened. For a time he let his mind wander, picking at the most sinister of things. The kid's father was a loser and any number of crazy things might have taken place; things that a normal person would find impossible to believe. Not Bernfeld though. He'd seen it all.

Nose wrinkled, he almost cautiously typed in the URL for a particular website. A dark place outside the realm of the usual social media sites; if the kid's father had done something or was considering doing something illicit, Bernfeld would find proof of it here. He logged in, using his preferred pseud and slouched down at the desk. Like countless others, he was different out here. Unrecognizable. Invisible. Some other person entirely.

He would find proof if it existed. Eventually.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note:**_ thank you thank you thank you to Phoebe - your help is invaluable! And Jazzie, yeah I know. The "this will just be a few chapters ..." bugaboo once more! I have no excuses. :-)_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

C.J. shook his head as Steve gently tugged him towards the beach and the big expanse of blue. He signed _no_ and then dug his bare toes into the grassy edge just short of where the sand began.

_Steve didn't understand._

He stared at the water, frightened and wanting to go back to the house. Back inside to Danny where it was safe and where Danny was making them lunch.

Flicking his fingers away from his face and downwards, C.J. made sure that Steve saw just how bad of an idea this was.

'_Bad_', he insisted as Steve calmly smiled down at him. '_No_', C.J. signed again when Steve knelt in front of him. He pointed to the water and dug his toes into place even more, sinking them in tiny ruts. Steve was smiling and he definitely was not. When Steve made a swimming motion with his hands, C.J. shook his head vigorously and took two full steps backwards.

He liked the new boardies a lot. They were yellow and white with bold red stripes which looked like lightning bolts. Yellow was his favorite color. And his new plastic pail and shovel were there in the sand, but water was now gently lapping at each. Tugging them deeper and deeper from the shallows. C.J. made a face about that, wanting his new toys, but refusing to budge an inch. Things had been fine playing on the beach making sandcastles, but now the tide was coming in. The water was deeper and Steve had other ideas about ... _swimming_.

C.J. looked at the waves, not liking their foamy white tops. He couldn't figure the waves out; the water moved too fast. It sucked at his toes and sometimes made him sink in the sand until he couldn't see the tops of his feet. Tiny waves tumbled over themselves endlessly _and_ … C.J. gasped when Steve unexpectedly swung him up into his arms.

Eyes wide, he dug his fingers into Steve's shoulders as the man simply crossed C.J.'s imaginary line. He struggled briefly to get down, tapping at Steve's shoulders frantically. Instead of listening to him though, Steve made a turn to walk down the beach, his feet still in dry sand, yet treacherously close to danger. He was talking to C.J., too. He could feel the rumble through his chest, but C.J. didn't want to listen anymore.

_'Down,'_ C.J. insisted despite the way Steve was still smiling at him. _'Down!' _

Afraid as the water loomed so close, C.J. pointed his finger down while moving his hand also in a downward motion. He hadn't shared this sign before, but C.J. thought Steve would know he didn't like what was happening. Instead, Steve paused long enough to gently card his fingers through C.J.'s windswept hair before he kissed his forehead. He gave a C. J a friendly shaka sign, trying to say that everything was okay before he kept right on walking them both down the beach.

Every so often, Steve would stop and point at a surfer or someone boogie boarding. Mouth pursed a bit angrily, C.J. stubbornly shook his head, refusing to really look, his finger always pointing down.

'_No_,' C.J. said when Steve pointed to a little boy about his age, soaking wet from head to toe. Using one hand, Steve made a simple swimming motion. '_No. Down!'_ C.J. insisted. He was watching though. Even as he pointed back towards the house, C.J. was stealing glances at the boy who was laughing as he ran out of the water, his own blue sand shovel in a fist. The boy was having a really good time and it was obvious that Steve wanted C.J. to do the same thing.

Through his body, C.J. felt Steve shrug and then start to walk again. C.J. began to relax after a while, at least trusting now that Steve wasn't going to make him do more than this … and being carried while looking at other people wasn't so bad. He could see everything from up high, too. His sense of safety slowly returned as Steve's voice rumbled on and he pointed out a few things. Other kids, a big yellow dog on a surfboard, another black and white dog running after balls into the surf-line, a smaller fuzzy dog trotting behind.

Juggling C.J.'s weight, Steve tried to use both his hands to sloppily sign something and C.J. giggled, clutching at Steve's body when Steve's hold slipped a bit. C.J. had no idea what Steve was trying to say at first. He felt him laugh though, stopping to finally put C.J. down, kneeling in front of him to try more properly.

'_Look_. _Fun_," Steve signed awkwardly. He pointed dramatically to the dogs, the kids and then the water. It was plenty for C.J. to follow and understand. They'd been using the laptop to learn and relearn basic things over the last few days. Using videos and finger spelling, it was all just enough to get by. So C.J. definitely knew that Steve only wanted him to play and also to have some fun. But C.J didn't like the ocean; he was afraid of it.

'_Fun_,' Steve repeated, mouthing the word and smiling at the same time even though C.J. blinked up at him, remaining silent. C.J. understood but he was completely unconvinced even though that same little boy with the shovel was running right past him now, sand flying with every step. Bits of sand peppered C.J.'s bare legs as the boy pelted by him, bravely charging the shallows, going deeper. He never stopped and then seemed to fall into a wave on purpose. He came up laughing, spitting water, and their eyes met. He waved at C.J. with his back to the ocean and C.J. tugged worriedly at Steve's hand.

He pointed, frightened. He moved his hands out because the water was _big_, too _big_! Thick, heavy waves were coming in as a big boat sped by beyond the breakers and the boy didn't see them. And as C.J. watched, the little boy was swallowed whole, disappearing from sight in just an instant. He gasped, he must have made a sound for the way Steve laid a gentle hand on the top of his head. C.J. opened his mouth, wanting to shout though. His eyes were huge as he looked for the boy in the water. He didn't know a sign for what he was feeling so he quickly glanced up at Steve as he touched his face, sweeping his hand out twice in a row while pointing to where the boy had been ... because C.J. was scared for him.

_' … bad …. bad …!' _C.J. signed wondering why no one had gone in to save the boy.

_'No. It's okay. Fun ... look_,' Steve signed slowly as the other boy suddenly re-appeared, arms windmilling wildly and still … _laughing_ ... even though he'd been pulled farther out into waist-deep water.

'_Fun_," Steve repeated to C.J.'s surprise. He stood to his full height and pantomimed swimming. He gave another happy shaka wave, coupled with a thumbs-up, and C.J. felt his resolve wavering. Nothing bad had happened.

C.J. opened his mouth and then closed it when the boy saw him watching. He smiled tentatively as the boy raised his hands up over his head to dramatically fall into another wave on purpose yet again, and by the time he surfaced, C.J.'s smile was bigger. The boy was showing off and he wanted to play and now ... so did C.J. But C.J. was afraid and torn by indecision, he didn't know what to do about it.

Transfixed, C.J. stared back at the boy until he felt a tug on his hand and he looked up at Steve.

'_Okay_? _Want to go back - or stay?"_ Steve mouthed as he pantomimed going back to the house. C.J. looked at Steve and then at the little boy who was now hunkered down and busily poking at something in the shallows. Tempted to go look, C.J. faltered but after a moment, he took Steve's hand. He looked at all the people and where the sand turned dark-gray wet so different from its dry white color.

Pretty silvery ripples came and went, leaving bubbles behind. He hesitated and then carefully followed when Steve walked a little closer to where those ripples just barely touched his feet. He wiggled his toes, scrunching them up to escape as the water lapped closer.

'_Fun_,' Steve signed again when C.J. glanced up at him. '_No. Bad'. _He shook his head, smiling widely as he waved his hand towards the ocean.

As water crept over his feet with a gentle tug, C.J. managed to giggle at Steve because Steve meant that the water wasn't bad. But his sign for bad wasn't exactly right and he'd put the finger signs together wrong. C.J. knew what Steve meant though; it was easy enough to see that everyone was having fun. And the more he stood there watching, the more C.J. was learning that the water wasn't all that bad or scary. C.J. made a face, unsure about what to do. He understood what Steve was teaching him, but was afraid to give in. Steve liked to swim and he wanted C.J. to like it too but he wasn't sure what to do at all when more water swirled unexpectedly over his feet, rising nearly up to his ankles.

Staring at this feet, C.J. held his breath, and for the first time, bravely held his ground. He was sure something would happen and yet, nothing did. The water just inched out again and Steve just stood there next to him. Kids played and others were surfing far far out where it was really deep. Everyone was having fun and nothing was wrong.

_Nothing happened _…. and for a minute, C.J. just stood looking at Steve's feet considering all of this as the salty water came and went … and then … came and went some more. He wasn't sure what he thought would happen but when the water went back out, his feet were always there even if they were a bit buried in the wet sand.

C.J. made another face, confused this time and reaching for Steve's hand when the next silent stream of water dared to travel across the drier sand … higher over his ankles. It was cool and almost silky as it wrapped around his skin.

Beaming proudly down at him, Steve began to swing C.J.'s hand back and forth. But then he squatted down, asking C.J. to watch as he began to count on his fingers.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5 _and another silent stream of water lapped over Steve's feet and went away. It meant something important and curious, C.J. watched Steve count again: _1, 2, 3, 4, 5. _He pointed down to their feet for C.J. to look, watch and to wait, as the water returned to tease at their toes.

As it receded, Steve held up one finger for C.J. to wait before counting a third time. This was going to be different; C.J. could tell by the look on Steve's face. Watching closely when Steve pointed to a speed boat, its wake creating a bigger wave, Steve counted only three fingers before the water trickled in, faster and just a little bit deeper. C.J. startled not sure what to make of the changes. He backed up a bit, still clinging tightly to Steve's fingers, frightened that something would go wrong.

Nothing happened again though and slowly it dawned on C.J. that it was okay. The water was supposed to do that and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't so unpredictable as he'd first thought. C.J. watched the waves and then looked at the boat as it sped off. Steve was still counting, too, teaching C.J. how to time the waves. But now, as the big boat went out of sight, Steve was counting only to five again and the big waves were gone; only ripples were covering their toes. C.J. was slowly getting it - that the water wasn't always so confusing as he'd first thought. At least there ... where he stood in the shallow part.

'_Hungry_?' Steve suddenly asked when he looked at him again. He pointed now towards the house and shrugged happily. His signs were slow and sometimes wrong, but C.J. smiled when Steve tapped his fingers to his mouth just right. His tummy making that squiggly itchy feeling at the same time.

_'Eat? Lunch?'_ Steve asked. He'd gotten that one right about eating and Danny had promised ice cream _after. _C.J. nodded before tapping his fingers to his own mouth.

'_Ice cream?'_ C.J. asked next by holding an imaginary cone in his fist and Steve laughed outright, ruffling C.J.'s hair happily.

_'Ice cream. Yes,' _Steve confirmed as he pantomimed holding an ice cream cone of his own, compounding his approval with an affirmative shake of his fist in the air between them.

**H50*H50**

"Yeah, okay ... tomorrow," Danny said as he listened to Angela Marcos prattle on about the foster family she'd found for C.J. "He's fine ... great actually. We enjoy having him around. We'll meet at the offices first thing in the morning." He had to admit that, too, as the call ended with the social worker: that things were indeed great. C.J. had warmed up considerably and certain routines were simply falling into place. Danny wasn't sure they should be so easy to adopt and yet, they'd found a real rhythm in just that short time. He and Steve had a connection with the boy and seeing him leave after just a few days was going to be hard. Still, it was best for all involved.

Heaving a sigh, Danny grimaced as he tossed his cell phone to the counter. He'd been keeping an eye out for their return from the kitchen window and when he finally spotted them, he went outside to stand on the lanai, relieved when C.J. waved to him, a huge smile on his face. He waved back smiling though his private thoughts were far more serious. It was Monday afternoon already, the last day of a long holiday weekend and his prediction about figuring out who C.J. and his mother were - where they belonged - wasn't going to come to fruition. They knew no more than they did on Friday about the pair and with all the tools at their disposal, Danny was baffled by that fact.

C.J.'s mother was still an unknown entity. Her fingerprints had yielded nothing and no one had stepped forward on either her or her son's behalf. And with C.J.'s young age combined with his limited ability to communicate, it wasn't likely they'd get much more from him either. As Steve approached, his posture relaxed and happy, Danny felt a sense of unease. He looked hard at his partner, suddenly concerned by Steve's easy smile and the way he was hovering over the child.

He chastised himself just as quickly though as a stray uncomfortable thought flitted through his mind. This time tomorrow, whether they'd discovered the boy's family or not … he'd be elsewhere. With that rightful family or with a proper foster family. Someone equipped to take care of his very special needs.

Danny tried to convince himself that what he was witnessing was simply Steve's natural goodness with children. Steve naturally needed to be _needed_ and he threw himself with vigor into any new situation. That's all there was to this calm, patient doting and the ongoing study of basic sign language at the drop of a hat. But as Danny watched them approach and C.J. waved again, he gave some credence to his worries and a silent promise that he'd have a brief conversation with his partner. Sooner rather than later. Right after lunch in fact.

"At least the kid's smiling and …. still dry," Danny called out to Steve as he came across the lawn, C.J.'s small hand tucked in his own.

"What do you take me for, Danno?" Steve said as he swung C.J.'s arm back and forth to make him laugh. "I know he's scared of the water … I'd never force him to swim."

"How could I know that, _huh_? You make me to do things I don't want to do all the time," Danny argued back sarcastically, secretly needing to admit that he was pleased to see the smile and healthy color to C.J.'s cheeks. The boy didn't smile enough and trusted even less. Now though and as he'd told the social worker, C.J. was relaxed and happy. His demeanor that day was a far cry from that of just a few days earlier and Danny was sure that Angela Marcos from CPS would approve. Their issue though wasn't resolved however since there apparently was no family to contact and Danny could sense the pending discussion about C.J.'s placement with a proper foster home. Inside, he felt a pang of worry. He already didn't want to see him go and worried about the boy's reaction to the news, but it was a necessary next step.

But neither HPD nor his team had discovered the identity of C.J.'s still comatose mother. They needed to focus and stay on task. Even though Jerry had some reservations about what he'd been researching, there was no evidence which put the child in any obvious danger. There were no leads back from the contents of the woman's duffle. Nothing on the money or the drugs inside it; both ample enough to warrant someone's interest. Perhaps the woman's accomplices were lying low or she'd stolen it … or she was in business for herself and had hit some very lucky, once in a lifetime score. Danny didn't know, but by this time tomorrow, little C.J. would need to be remanded to CPS so his care could continue on.

"Yeah, but you like it, don't you," Steve whispered with a sly wink. Danny blinked, tearing himself from those thoughts back to the present.

"What? No. I most definitely do not _like_ it," Danny said indignantly as Steve ushered C.J. ahead of them across the lanai and into the house. Something also struck him as Steve tapped C.J. gently on the top of his head. When he looked up, Steve gestured towards inside and made a quick motion with his hands. One over the other, it was clear even to Danny that Steve was asking C.J. to wash up and Danny's heart nearly stopped inside his chest. He knew Steve had been studying up on that baby sign language website and most signs were even intuitive, but what Steve was retaining and using more and more often, was honestly very startling.

Danny recovered quickly enough as C.J. nodded his understanding, trying to calm himself from a new concern. One solely related to his partner as he focused on the tender expression.

"Sure you do. You love it," Steve smirked, pausing long enough in the doorway to surprise Danny with a deep kiss that left Danny flushed and rocking on his feet while C.J. was distracted.

"What? No. I'm sure I don't," Danny muttered under his breath but he was preoccupied, the banter falling flat. He fought a few more sobering thoughts as C.J. ran through the kitchen, his bare feet thudding lightly on the floor. This time tomorrow, things would be different.

"Hey. What were you thinking about just then?" Steve asked. "Things okay … did anyone call?"

"Angela Marcos called," Danny admitted. "She's found a good foster family to take care of C.J. So, I was just thinking about him and what happens next."

"What?" Steve said quietly; clearly stunned.

Gauging his next words carefully, Danny heaved in a lungful of air as he looked into Steve's face. He easily saw that Steve knew what he was getting at when that easy smile fled from his face. There was no delicate way to proceed, so Danny simply dove right in.

"We both thought we'd locate family over the weekend; we assumed that we'd have something - anything - on his mother. And, we knew that Angela Marcos would be working hard to find the right placement."

"Yeah," Steve replied, his tone grim as his posture stiffened. "He's a great kid … and he's smart. So _smart_. So about that … this whole situation … Danny ..."

"No wait. Steve, I know what you're going to say and we aren't setup for this ... we can't just keep him," Danny said softly. "We can't just keep him … it doesn't make any sense. It's only been a few days, this will be the easiest and best transition so we can focus on our jobs. Marcos found a suitable placement for him and he should go; until things are sorted out."

"And what if there's more to it and he's not safe?" Steve challenged back. "Jerry has reservations after what he's been trolling for on the internet. Suppose this woman - C.J.'s mother - was involved with things we can't even hazard a guess about? What then, Danny? He's a sweet little kid … he's completely innocent in all of this. You're the one who said he was better off with us ..."

"That's not fair and you know what I meant," Danny said. He threw his hands in the air, fighting saying something more caustic because they both simply cared too much. "He's got a family, Steve. He signed _daddy_ at one point and now we know he has an aunt. He can't tell us her name though. He can't even tell us what his initial's stand for. C.J.'s a great kid; he is, no doubt. But he's got a family; somewhere. And maybe it's a decent family. A good family. We need to focus in order to help him."

Steve heaved in what sounded like a strangled breath of air. He nodded in agreement even if his eyes said otherwise. Fighting in general wasn't going to get them anywhere. But Danny didn't like the hope he heard in Steve's tone no matter that he was on guard and defensive. All of those emotions were there and they only compounded this new worry that Steve's inherent level of protectiveness had spilled over into a tenuous territory. None of what was happening was fair to any child. Yet Steve was right too, that C.J. was special. His needs seemed to up the ante tenfold and Danny probably felt just as protective towards him as Steve. So Danny couldn't blame Steve one bit as he smiled cajolingly and reached for Steve's hands to gently pull them off the man's hips.

"Steve, okay, I get it," Danny said, insisting that Steve bring his temper down a few notches. "I do and sometimes, I feel the same way … but we just can't keep pulling strings because it suits us and we might want ... _more_ … there's just so much latitude we have or even have the right to leverage in a situation like this."

"It's just that he's so damned alone. He's scared and he doesn't have anyone ... it's not right," Steve said. He scrubbed a hand through his hair in exasperation before speaking much more softly. "He reminds me of ... _me_. I can't just let it go."

His blunt admission and his moodiness interrupted Danny's words and Danny sighed again, reaching out to kiss the side of Steve's cheek. Sometimes Danny didn't know what to make of the genuine size of Steve's heart. That, and just how often Doris had dropped her strong super-SEAL of a son on his lovable head to foster these occasional outbursts of insecurity.

"I'm not asking you to let him go. Besides, he's not alone is he? He has you and me ... he has _us_ no matter where he winds up," Danny whispered, having to be appeased when Steve at least nodded even if he did now refuse to smile. He pulled Steve closer, wending his arms around the taller man's waist, his tone pleading.

"Take a deep breath. Take one hour at a time, all right, babe? Let it all fall into place."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Thank you so much to Phoebe - and too Jazzie. You two are awesome. Thank you!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"We need to check them out before we do this," Steve said without apology and in a tone that brooked no argument. He was staring at Angela Marcos, but speaking directly to Danny, his expression stern. "Daniel, I'm not going to do this to him without a background check."

Groaning under his breath, Danny stayed quiet as he continued to run warm circles over C.J.'s back. They were both conflicted. Still. _Daniel? Really?_ Had Steve just done that to him? Danny might not have said anything, but he narrowed his eyes in warning. One that demanded Steve hold it together and they not rehash earlier conversations here and now. This was also not the time - nor the place - for accidentally goading or antagonizing those who were there to help them.

"This is all quite normal for any child ... especially for C.J.'s age. But this is a fantastic find," Angela Marcos was saying as Danny bounce-rocked C.J. like a mad-man, despite the fact that the boy was nearly strangling him alive.

"You're okay," Danny murmured repeatedly as he listened to Marcos explain for the umpteenth time why Mr. and Mrs. Eric Lee were the epitome of near god-like care. It didn't matter if C.J. could hear him or not; it only mattered that he could feel the baritone hum of Danny's voice.

"Janice and Eric Lee are lovely people. Janice is fluent in ASL ... she's a school teacher ... and we're truly blessed to find such a perfect fit." Ever reasonable and apparently very pleased with her fostering success, Angela was smiling right up until the time Steve's face darkened and then beyond.

"Normal?" Steve said, just barely hiding his disbelief. "His mother just _died_ ... we have no real way of telling him that, yet ... and now, the adults in his life are about to punt-kick him to the other side of the island. Something else we can't adequately explain and this is all ... normal?"

"Punt kick? What's the matter with you?" Danny complained, but in a neutral tone, his voice calm. "You know what Angela means. C.J.'s reaction to not wanting to leave us after a few days is perfectly normal because he understands that something is up and it's more than likely that he's going to have go with Angela."

"Are you objecting to a background check?" Steve quietly asked Danny. He gestured helplessly to the child who had quite literally wrapped himself around Danny's torso.

"No. Even though it's probably not necessary. I'm sure the Lee's have passed every check already," Danny breathed out quietly as he hugged C.J. to his chest. "I'm just agreeing with Angela that this is a good option; a damned good one. But ... it's not going to be easy. Obviously. But we need to do the right thing for him; and who's to say this isn't it no matter how hard"

As soon as the words left is mouth, Danny thought they felt they sounded hollow. He wasn't sure he believed a single thing of the crap he'd just spouted. Based upon his partner's expression, Steve was thinking precisely the same thing, too. What Danny had just said could be a total veritable pile of horse-shit. Danny sucked in a deep lungful of air, well aware of how C.J. had locked his arms around his neck and hooked his ankles together behind his back. The plush toy lion lay forgotten on the floor and his tiny slippahs had fallen off his feet. Danny's neck felt cool from the tears which had already dampened his tee-shirt. He'd need a crowbar to get the boy to release him.

Just how in the hell were they going to do this? How was Danny in particular, going to explain the Lee's to C.J. and - God help him - explain what had happened to his mother?

"They're downstairs," Angela said, interrupting Danny's thoughts. "The Lee's." She looked from Danny to Steve, then back again to unnecessarily compound the fact that this most perfect foster family was there and probably were very excited as they waited to collect the little boy in Danny's arms.

"They understand the delicate nature of this situation; and they're not new to this. They aren't new to fostering. If you give this arrangement a chance to happen, C.J. will wind up loving them."

Danny didn't miss the frown which crossed Steve's face the way Angela had. To be honest, Danny was feeling the very same way and he was frustrated by the situation all around. What had happened on that prior Friday suddenly paled in comparison to having to hand C.J. over to a new couple. The plan they'd agree to on Friday suddenly seemed as if it had happened a thousand years ago. And giving up a little boy? Nearly impossible. They'd been naive to their emotions and now? They were all being forced to roll with the punches and keep on going - to _accept_ \- and keep going even if they all hated it. But how were they going to explain to C.J. that today's terribly confusing hardship, would probably be all right down the road? Especially when Danny suddenly wasn't convinced either?

"How are we going to do this?" Steve repeated Danny's words out loud. But he meant something else entirely and for this, Danny didn't have an answer.

"I don't know," Danny muttered under his breath, feeling completely torn. If they didn't know how they'd gotten here in such a short time, then how the hell were they really going to manage not further devastating the life of a very little boy? He glanced to Steve and jerked a nod towards Angela Marcos. "Figure out if you need to do this background check; get some more information. Go meet with them and get an impression. I'm going to take this little man for a walk and calm him down. Try to explain things."

With that, Danny stalked from the room, C.J. still buried deeply in his arms. He walked the length and breadth of the Palace until he found a quiet corner. Beneath a beige colored wall layered with awards, he leaned forward to sit C.J. on the edge of a short alcove.

"Hey. Look at me, bud," Danny said as he gently teased some space between himself and the little boy. Using the palm of his hand, he lifted C.J.'s chin only to try and swipe the tears away from his cheeks. Danny shook his head ruefully at every ragged hitch of the boy's breath. C.J. wasn't by far, the first child he'd felt responsible for in his career. But as he stared into the little boy's distraught eyes, this was different. Maybe it had always been different. Or maybe it was because of Steve or maybe because it simply ... just was what it was ... because C.J. felt like family.

If they were to believe the boy though, C.J. already _had_ a family. So these feelings and wants had to be tabled until they could prove that one way or another. C.J. had said as much when he'd asked first for his mother. Then, that one time for his father. More recently now, for some anonymous aunt which Danny knew they had to put a gallant effort into locating.

"I'm sorry," Danny whispered as he planted a kiss first to C.J.'s nose and then to his sweaty forehead. "I don't know how to explain this to you. I'm going to try, okay, and I need you to be brave." Continuing to tip C.J.'s chin upwards, Danny pointed to his belt where his 5-0 badge was clipped. Using one hand, he then tapped his cheek near his right eye as if looking before pointing to C.J. and then signing the words he'd learned meant '_aunt_' and '_daddy_'.

"Steve and I need to find your family," Danny tried to explain out loud at the same time as he pointed and gave the simple signs, tapping his badge in between. He had no recourse to pantomime and pray that C.J. understood at least some of what he was trying to say.

"Your aunt ... and your _dad_. C.J.?" He frowned when C.J. gave what looked like a panicked shake of his head, his eyes huge as Danny placed his thumb to his forehead.

_'No!'_ C.J. signed quickly as his lip started to tremble all over again._ 'No!' _Danny was shocked when a tear cut loose to roll down an already damp cheek.

"What? What's wrong?" Confused by this newest flux of tears, he started all over, intentionally going slow. "What's wrong buddy? Is it your dad?"

"C.J.?" Danny asked as the boy tugged his fingers down and away from his forehead just as he was making the finger-sign.

_'No,'_ C.J. signed again around a breathless whine, his hands splayed and shaking near his chest. That movement of his hands meant something too, yet Danny could only understand the most obvious signs. _'Daddy ... bad.'_

"But?" Danny shook his head, bewildered now. Ever careful, Danny signed _daddy_ and _bad_ to be sure, earning a _yes_ from C.J but yet another finger-sign. One which Danny had never seen before. Looking plaintively into his face, C.J. took one hand with his fingers spread wide. He pointed the palm towards himself and circled it near his chest.

"What the hell ...," Danny muttered under his breath. Even if he'd hardly thought out what to he'd say once the boy calmed down a bit, this wasn't what he'd expected. True that C.J. had only signed for his father very early on and then never again. He'd more recently opted to ask for an aunt or his mother and Danny scrubbed hard at his face with both hands. What the hell did all of this mean?

"Danny? How are you two doing?"

Danny startled when Steve called out to him from down the hallway. "Better. I think," he said, turning to face Steve with one hand on C.J.'s knee, guarding him from falling off the narrow ledge. "Except ... I think, if I got this right ... our little man here has now changed his mind about wanting us either to find or see his father."

"Really?" Steve said as his eyes met the boy's, his expression soft. "Danny? Care to explain?"

"I don't know, Steve. I've got nothing other than C.J. now saying his father is bad ... something about him is bad," Danny murmured. "I don't think he's making it up; he's too little to play a game like that with us. It makes no sense."

"No, no it doesn't," Steve agreed quietly. He smiled for C.J.'s sake, gesturing back towards their office. His tone was calm but Danny sensed a tinge of disappointment as he described his first impression of the Lee's. "I came to see how you were and to let you know that the Lee's are checking out. They're everything Angela said they were; I brought them up. I hate to admit it, but they are just about perfect. Lou ran a fast check and they're ... well, just damned ... normal. So we agreed to them _meeting_ C.J. at least ... then depending on how he takes it, decide from there."

It was a fair assessment and Danny nodded, feeling a bit better about his partner's initial thoughts. It made perfect sense and would offer C.J the best opportunity while they searched for his family and tried to connect the dots. As for now? Danny'd done his best with the limited tools he had at his disposal. Maybe Mrs. Lee could decipher the rest or do a better job of explaining what was happening in terms which might be plain enough for a frightened little boy to understand.

"Come on," Danny said to C.J. Holding his hands out, he asked for permission before scooping the boy back up into his arms. Though quieter and now focused solely on Steve, C.J. was worried and clearly unhappy even as he rested his head on Danny's shoulder.

"This is Janice," Angela Marcos said in introduction as they re-entered the office. "And her husband, Eric."

Danny nodded as way of welcome, noting how pretty Janice Lee was; her eyes as naturally sunny and warm as the soft-butter yellow blouse she was wearing. His appraisal of Eric Lee came away equally favorable. In his arms though, C.J. was a leaden weight, essentially non-responsive as his dismay seemed to grow.

"You're okay. I promise," Danny whispered as he pressed a kiss to C.J.'s cheek, his hand never-ceasing in its soothing journey over the boy's back.

"It's nice to meet you," the couple said nearly in unison, laughing nervously as they all shook hands around. The two made a good first impression and Danny couldn't help himself from smiling back at Janet's eager expression. She was holding C.J.'s toy lion, her gaze wanting to stay on C.J. but knowing better than to focus too much on the child.

"This is C.J.," Danny said quietly as he slowly signed the boy's initials.

Janice beamed at them before tucking C.J.'s lion in the crook of her arm. She used Danny's introduction to her advantage and pointed to C.J., then to the lion, speaking while she signed.

"I like your lion and would like to be his friend. Can I be his friend?" Her finger signs were fluid and efficient. If she hadn't spoken aloud, Danny would have missed just about all of them except the sign for lion, which C.J had shown them numerous times. When Janice said the word _friend_, she held out her both of her index fingers hooked in a C-shape. She held one hand with the C facing up and hooked the second C into the first. Then, she quickly reversed the position of her hands and did it again.

Huddled into his neck, C.J. practically froze in place, his small body stiffening, his eyes now not leaving Janice Lee's face.

"Can I be his friend?" Janice asked again. "I'd like to be your friend, too."

"Maybe he doesn't understand," Steve whispered softly. "It's too much for him to take in."

"I'd like to see what he knows," Janice said gently. "Hi, C.J.," she signed while speaking. "My name is Janice ... and this is Eric."

"Well, I for one, know that he knows that much. He does for sure," Danny said proudly, bending down to peer into C.J.'s face, worried when the little boy only continued to stare at Janice Lee, completely ignoring the woman's husband who also tried to smile and greet him. "Hey," Danny gently urged C.J. by running his fingers over the boy's hand and then pointing to the woman.

"You can say hi; I know you can."

Instead of replying though, C.J. glanced at Danny before he tucked his hands firmly between his and Danny's chest, effectively hiding them from view. Then as if proving a point that he was refusing to talk, he intentionally hid his face in Danny's shoulder. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Danny might have laughed at C.J.'s incredible display of willful behavior.

"It's all right," Janice said, watching as Danny knelt down to set C.J. on his feet even if he was still hiding his face in his shirt. "He's scared ... there's no reason at all for him to trust us."

"But he's my brave boy," Danny whispered softly as he tucked his head close to C.J.'s. "I know you can feel me buddy," he whispered, letting his breath warm C.J.'s neck with each word. "I need you to trust me. I promise it's going to be all right. Can you at least try for me?"

Using his thumb, Danny wiped the lone tear he could see on the boy's cheek. "Hey," he said when C.J. peeked up at him. Danny smiled soothingly, but C.J. refused. He took Danny's hand and pushed it away. He looked once at Janice Lee and then to Steve, settling back to Danny. Just as he had done a few minutes earlier, C.J. took one hand with his fingers spread wide and pointed his palm towards himself. He made a circling motion in front of his chest as his eyes glistened darkly with tears and his other hand clutched almost desperately at Danny's shoulder.

He did it again ... then again, frustrated tears pooling in his eyes.

"I don't know what that means," Danny said as he balanced there on one knee, his hands wrapped around C.J.'s shoulders. "I'm sorry ... _what_ ...?"

Behind him though, Danny heard Janice Lee's sharp intake of breath. A startled sound that ended on a sad note. He didn't need to ask what Janice knew because she explained it to all to them.

"He's saying _please_ ...," Janice said, her voice breaking with emotion. "He's just saying ... _please_."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Thank you for all the fantastic reviews ... _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve kept glancing over to the passenger seat where Danny was sitting with C.J. in his lap. They were breaking every child-related motor vehicle rule and Danny had been the instigator. But slouched down, not even wearing his own seatbelt, Danny had his head rocked back and his eyes closed. His fingers were linked together supporting C.J.'s bottom. And the boy in question? He was sitting backwards, his head resting against Danny's chest. Eyes closed, too, his arms and legs hung long and loose. The pair was the epitome of peace, but where C.J. was sound asleep, Danny was nursing a migraine. Steve could tell that based on the fine-lines around his eyes and the deeper furrow between them. His jaw was also clenched, his teeth audibly grinding every so often.

"It's a good idea," Steve said. "He understands it. It's the best of both worlds."

"Yeah," Danny replied. "It's a good plan." He squinted his eyes open, not to look at Steve, but to kiss the top of C.J.'s head and his demeanor softened considerably. Nonetheless, something was irking him and Steve carefully chose to push a bit harder.

"So what's up then? Something's bothering you. What's wrong?" Steve asked. He paused and pulled a long face. "Is it the kids? Are you worried about Charlie?"

"Charlie? No ... no, not at all," Danny said. He shrugged and then gave out with a low sigh. "I don't want to hurt him, Steve. And by keeping him and setting the wrong expectations. The more people that we introduce him to; the more he settles in ... that could happen. Then what? What happens when we find his family?"

"And what if we don't?" Steve countered. "What if we don't ... or, we do. But for right now? We offer him some short-term stability until we find his family. What if we're the adults in his life that don't run away or lie to him; the ones that he can trust?"

"Maybe," Danny agreed. He ran a light hand up and down C.J.'s back before turning his head to look Steve square in the eye. "I'm worried about you, too. You already want to keep him. Are you going to be able to handle it if we find his family? Good or bad, he's got a father. Good or bad ... he's got an aunt. Who knows who else is lurking out there? These anonymous people could make a custody battle a living hell."

Danny paused and shook his head, his hand still smoothing across the sleeping boy's back. "Been there, done that, Steven. It's not fun for anyone and worse on the children ... and ten to one, we'd lose to blood relatives."

"Yeah, I know," Steve whispered, his jaw working and his stomach feeling as if he'd just gotten punched. He felt winded without having budged an inch because Danny was right on all counts. A very large part of him hoped they didn't find C.J.'s family. Or, if they did, that they were all completely incompetent caregivers. He didn't think he had an answer but ... it was all true and Steve glanced Danny's way, admitting it out loud.

"He _could_ be part of ours."

"He could be," Danny softly agreed. "If some very important things do or don't happen. Just ... just ... let's be careful, okay?"

Steve ran out of words as he drove them home after a long day visiting with Angela Marcos and the Lee's. Though they were both quiet now and thinking hard, their silence was comfortable. The idea they'd all finally agreed to was both easy and complex. Again, an unprecedented use of positioning which straddled a thin line of legal right and wrong. They had visited the Lee's home where C.J. had instantly backed himself into a corner, refusing to talk by literally sliding down the kitchen wall to sit on his hands. As anticipated, he'd been alarmed at first, shutting down all over again as his mistrust came to the fore. This time, Danny had to laugh and, as he drove, Steve grinned to himself at the recent memory. Oddly enough, Danny's honest show of amusement had eased C.J.'s mind. The rolled eyes and flailing hands had caught C.J. by surprise and he'd relaxed enough to eventually poke around the Lee's quaint home.

Then with Janice Lee's help, they'd explained a new idea to C.J. An idea where the Lee's would watch him during the day so that Steve and Danny could do police work. During the visit, he and Danny had even learned something very important. Baby sign language was not exactly the same as American Sign Language; while there were some similarities, there were just as many refinements and C.J. seemed to know an odd mix of the two. But overall, his grasp of ASL was severely limited. At least in Janice's opinion. His education had started and then stopped. A truth which might be an important clue in the scheme of things.

No matter, with her help, Steve and Danny learned a good many more words and phrases to help them communicate with the boy; so for them, the interaction had been an exciting boon. But they would all constantly need to prove to C.J. that Steve and Danny were telling the truth. That they would indeed be retrieving him each evening so that he could come ... _home_.

Using that particular word set off all kinds of alarms for the adults, but its use was necessary for C.J. to understand and potentially cope with the unique arrangement.

After all, C.J. had signed the word himself while pointedly staring at Danny and then Steve.

He'd resolutely signed it again, politely smiling to Janice Lee finally trusting that she would explain the finger sign. Joining his fingers to his thumb, he touched his cheek near the side of his mouth. He moved his hand just a bit towards his ear and then touched the side of his mouth again. Sensing that the adults' visit had finally come to an end, C.J. then blatantly opted to take Danny's hand. The boy had virtually been melded to his partner since and as he continued to drive _home_, Steve smiled to himself.

**H5O* H5O**

Bernfeld found the proof just prior to checking out of the hotel, but it wasn't what he'd wanted to learn. True, he'd _looked_ but he'd not truly believed he'd find what he had. He thought he'd seen it all and he'd been ignorant which wasn't an easy pill to swallow. His discovery strengthened his belief that the Jane Doe in that Honolulu hospital was his Marjorie Gardner. And based on what he'd found on the dark web, inclusive of pictures of her little boy, things were escalating quickly. Without his mother to protect him, the kid was in the worst jeopardy possible at the hands of his birth father.

"You son of a bitch," Bernfeld muttered under his breath, consumed by his thoughts and wondering what kind of man could even consider doing what he intended to a child as he toed off his shoes at the security checkpoint. He needed to get to Oahu as soon as possible ... find the kid ... get to Marjorie ... then? Then he would indeed deal with the man.

"Excuse me?" The TSA Agent said.

"What?" Bernfeld asked coming back to the present in a rush. He blinked almost stupidly into the annoyed face of a very large, well-muscled man, not realizing until that moment that he'd spoken out loud.

"What did you just call me?" Brow furrowed, the agent had been listening and was suddenly on alert and posturing threateningly in Bernfeld's personal space.

"What? No ... no!" Covering quickly for the gaff, Bernfeld purposefully stammered while tapping the bluetooth he'd forgotten in his ear. At least that part was true, he had forgotten about the small device and he took it now.

"Sorry. Not you," he replied with an apologetic smile as he dropped the accessory into the surveillance bin. "Boss. He's a jerk; and ... well, I'm sorry. This trip isn't a vacation for me and based on his expectations, if I don't make quota by end of the month, this trip will also be my last for the company."

Bernfeld tried to look genuinely embarrassed as he kept the explanation short. Talking too much and maintaining the lie would raise more alarms than just the offering of a few basic words.

"Sure," the agent drawled, not too sure of the honesty behind Bernfeld's excuse. He gestured Bernfeld forward, still watching. Continuing to watch him as he proceeded through the checkpoint without issue and Bernfeld swallowed his distasteful grimace.

He didn't feel as if he wasn't being watched anymore until he got to his gate, fidgeting and knee jumping as he waited impatiently to board his flight. He forgot about the TSA agent soon after because he needed to get to Oahu _yesterday_.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Thank you for all the fantastic reviews ... _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Later that evening, just before dinner, C.J. found himself face to face with the boy who he'd seen in the photographs with Danny. He knew that the boy's name was Charlie and that Charlie was Danny's son. He also now knew that Danny had a daughter. Her name was Grace, but she was older and away. C.J. had been told all of that earlier in the day when they had all visited with Mr. and Mrs. Lee so he understood that Charlie would be coming over to visit his father. And at first, C.J. had been excited. But now uncertain of Charlie because he was right _there_ with an Iron Man backpack over one shoulder and what looked like a boxed game in his hands, C.J. didn't know what to do.

"_Hi_," Charlie seemed to say and C.J. smiled back, shyly finger signing a quick '_hi_' of his own until Charlie thrust the game under his very nose. Startled, C.J. refused to take the box. He missed what Charlie said next, too, and confused, C.J. backed up fast, practically crashing into Steve's legs. A second later, both Steve and Danny were on their knees between the two boys.

_"Go slow_," Danny seemed to tell Charlie, using his hands in a downwards motion before turning to C.J. with a big smile. He rolled his eyes dramatically towards the ceiling, laughing with one hand resting gently on his son's head and the other pointing to the game.

_"It's okay,"_ Danny spoke slowly enough for C.J. to read his lips, adding a thumbs-up sign for good measure. But it was Steve who sealed the deal.

'_Play_,' Steve signed after tapping C.J.'s shoulder. _'Go have fun. Go play, C.J.' _

His eyes were laughing and C.J. smiled up to him. The finger sign for play looked like two shaka signs side by side. It was one that Mrs. Lee had shown both Danny and Steve that very same day and C.J. gave a hesitant nod until Charlie pushed the box into his father's hands. Charlie looked at C.J., excited and his own smile huge as he tried to copy the shaka-like sign for himself.

_'Play!'_ Charlie signed quickly, practically jumping in place. When his Uncle Steve told him that he'd gotten it right, Charlie grabbed the game box back and pushed it into C.J.'s arms. He pointed to the top, his excitement catchy and C.J.'s mouth opened in surprise when he realized what he was holding. It wasn't a game really, but a new Lego set with pictures of Iron Man and the Hulk on it ... and Captain _America_ ... and C.J.'s eyes widened because he couldn't believe it. The biggest picture on the box with all of the Avengers was a jet ... with rockets!

'_Play_!' Charlie signed again, apparently giggling at his success as he grabbed C.J.'s arm to tug him to follow. _'Come on! Let's go!'_ He said as he looked at C.J., smiling and happy, his voiced words no problem for C.J. to read and understand at all as he shouted again, _"let's go! my room!"_

Before he knew it, C.J. was running after Charlie, cradling the special box to his chest. His smile as large as his new friend's.

**H5O* H5O**

"That went pretty well," Steve said as he scooped Danny into his arms once the boys were out of sight. "Thank you."

"For what?" Danny asked. He sounded tired, almost resigned. Resting his head against Steve's chest, his general reluctance to talk was telling and Steve sighed in understanding.

"Because, I know ... and you're right," Steve said. "I know that your cop instincts are telling you one thing and your heart, something else. I know you're right, Danno ... but thank you for following your heart this time. Even if we wind up screwing up, thank you. I know that everything we decide to do today is going to have a repercussion. But this feels so right. It just does. Especially because we haven't told C.J. about his mother and I feel responsible for that omission, too."

"You don't have to thank me. I don't disagree with you ... and he wants to be with us. At least for right now," Danny admitted. "It's just that I _have_ been here before where I've gotten vested ... and it hurts. A lot. The damage that gets left behind hurts for a really long time and I'd honestly prefer to be more cautious; we just intentionally brought Charlie into the mix ... we're setting the precedent for more attachments. _Friends_. People who he will love and who will love him back. I'm terrified that things are going to go too far ... and C.J.? He's so impressionable and young ... and that innocent little boy isn't going to be able to take an emotional hit if things go south."

"I know; I do," Steve whispered worriedly as he tucked Danny to himself. "But it will work out; what's meant to be will work itself out. It always does."

"Yeah, and I'd like it to work out, too," Danny said. "I would. But we need to focus and follow up on whatever it is we've got now. The Lee's will watch him tomorrow; and we promised Jerry time to debrief us."

"Jerry does think he's found something," Steve said. "It's shoddy at best ... sketchy. I bet it's going to be nothing but from what he told me today, its got his spidey senses tingling."

Danny sniffed back laughter which didn't sound wholly genuine. "Spidey senses?"

"Hey! Those were his words, not mine!" Steve laughed as he pulled Danny in more tightly. In all honestly, Jerry sounded upset. Even for a conspiracy theorist, Jerry had sounded extremely disturbed. His attitude had put Steve on edge and his laughter faded away as quickly as it had come as he considered Jerry's words.

_"I was ... uh ... on the dark web. Just poking a bit and there was this talk,"_ Jerry had hemmed and hawed, awkwardly stammering his way through his nonsense. _"Talk about kids ... you know ... little kids. Sick, bad shit and these ... little kids. Jesus! And, uh some guy came right out and ... he just said it ... he had a mute kid and what a find for the right price. Sick bastard! Offered him right and there! I tried to hack his IP but it bounced all over the damned place ...gave me the creeps because one of the hits was here, on Oahu ... but suppose ... the guy was a fucking ghost. A troll. But Steve, just suppose ... and even if he's not ... suppose some other poor little kid is out there and right under our noses?"_

Jerry was right. He was also a good man often naive about certain realities; easily shocked by what Steve and Danny had more professional exposure to. Trafficking being one such thing. Still, that there was any kid at all in danger was a sickening statement and Steve's gut churned. _But C.J.?_ Jerry was known to go to extremes. Steve knew that the man would move mountain, earth and sky to impress him, as well. Some of his findings needed to be taken, not with a grain of salt, but with an entire mine.

Such dedicated extremes were why they all hated and loved the man at the same time. His implications about what he was suggesting right now could quite frankly be considered as ridiculous. That this anonymous guy on some dark website could be talking about C.J. Promising the little boy to the highest bidder? There was no reason to think this way or fall for Jerry's ramblings without solid proof. What Jerry implied had spooked Steve though; it made his skin itch in an annoying way. It made him _believe_ that some obscure second shoe was about to fall; it made him think that he could _feel_ some unknown threat even if that feeling made no sense as it lacked credence. Yet when Danny spoke next, his words nearly mirroring his private worries, Steve's smile bled away even faster. His gut churned harder.

"We'll investigate what we can with Jerry's intel. Bring in the Fed's if we have something substantial," Danny said easily knowing where Steve's thoughts had gone. "But you _know_ Jerry ... "

Steve definitely did, but he also knew that Danny was just as sickened by what _could_ _be_ as much as he. For a few very long minutes, Danny stayed right where he was with his arms wrapped around Steve and his forehead braced against him, not saying a single thing. When he spoke next though, Steve cringed. Danny had gone round robin back to another, more immediate issue.

"I don't know when or how, but we _have_ to tell him," Danny whispered. "We have to tell C.J. about his mother, Steve. It's not fair to keep the truth from him. It's been almost two days since she passed away."

"It would be so much easier if we found his family first ... that aunt he asked about once," Steve noted quietly. He sighed, his breath ruffling a few strand's of Danny's hair. He pressed a kiss to the side of Danny's cheek just to make himself feel better. This other truth chipped slowly at Steve's emotions, too. C.J. seemed to have family and they needed to focus. He needed to face reality despite his emotions and he forced himself to state the obvious.

"Jerry got a little off track in his research and we need to get back to center. We need to figure out who his mother was - someone has to know. Then, we track down the family. There has to be someone to help soften the blow when we tell him what's happened," Steve continued. He shrugged, wondering if he was making sense.

"I don't know. Just someone who can pinpoint where they came from. Hell, I'll accept knowing what C.J.'s full name is! What I want though, is to know what his mother was about ... what she was involved with and with _who_ ... I want someone who can give us some semblance of fact. Someone who can put this all into perspective to make it easier."

"Is that all you want? Easy?" Danny gave out with a wry-sounding, half-laugh, smirking as he tilted his head to look into Steve's face. He leaned up to kiss Steve gently on the lips, his expression fond. "Easy, huh?" Danny whispered again. "We're well past easy, babe, if this ever was in the first place."

**H5O* H5O**

"Look at that," Steve said. "I never would have guessed that happening in a million years." He shook his head as he sat on the edge of the Adirondack chair, trying not to look as if he might jump up if needed.

The sun was setting and dinner was long over. Much to C.J.'s original dismay, Charlie had insisted on a quick swim before his bedtime bath. Almost grudgingly, C.J. had changed into his board-shorts. But he'd changed and then reluctantly followed Charlie down to the beach. The two boys had played for awhile in the sand but Charlie had eventually traipsed into the water for some reason or another, leaving C.J. behind despite his ongoing chatter and prodding. Things had recently changed though and now, as Steve sat forward in his chair, elbows to knees, he smiled, intrigued.

"Are you watching this?" Steve asked Danny, who was sitting next to him and likely attempting to not over-react much as Steve was.

"Yeah, I am," Danny said quietly. "It's ... I'm speechless ..." He sighed and fidgeted, the only hints to how uncomfortable he was and Steve chuckled, eyebrows raised in amusement at Danny's admission. But they were watching a bit of magic unfold.

"They're fine," Steve said out loud just as much to ease his own mind as his partner's. He smirked to himself when Danny had the gall to stifle his laughter.

"Of course they are," Danny chuckled, fidgeting again to dig his heels more deeply into the ruts he'd already made in the sand. "Perfectly fine."

On their own small spit of beach, two small silhouettes stood safely in the ankle-deep shallows. The sun was going down faster now, left over light glinting a light shade of orange off blond hair where the darker head of thick brown simply held the brightness. The two boys were hand in hand, Charlie safely leading the way with C.J. lagging just a bit behind.

He walked slowly, carefully, stopping to point something out every step or two until they were just knee deep. Once there, Charlie stopped and turned to face C.J., saying something which neither Steve nor Danny could hear. While they watched, C.J. nodded and then smiled. He bravely let go of Charlie's hand. His finger signs were now easy enough for Danny and Steve to see and read even if Charlie might not have understood.

Making two fists, C.J. extended his index and middle fingers on each hand. He started with one hand by his nose, turning it to face upwards before touching those two fingers to his opposite hand.

_'Fun. Fun, Charlie,'_ C.J signed for a second time even as a gentle wave lapped at his knees and he needed to take Charlie's hand again.

"Incredible," Steve whispered, amazed by what Charlie had unknowingly accomplished in just a very short time. "Don't you think?"

"Like I said before though," Danny said, smiling as his son carefully coaxed C.J. along, the two boys deeply intent on getting to know each other. "We are well past this being easy."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	12. Chapter 12

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Note:** I'd call this chapter a happy little lull ... more shout outs to Phoebe. I so appreciate the help and opinions; the same to Jazzie for slapping the annoying plot bunny upside its head._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H50**

"I never would have believed it," Danny said while watching Steve's backside with avid interest while Steve rummaged in the back of a little-used closet. He intentionally put a dramatic lilt into his words mostly because he couldn't help it and flirting was fun. On his hands and knees, Steve's backside through a pair of lightweight black boardies was rather ... well ...mesmerizing.

"What?" Steve shouted from the depths of the closet. "Did you say something?"

"You. Nesting!" Danny shouted back, his grin turning a bit more lascivious when Steve's backside swayed from left to right. "Probably not a bad thing," he muttered to himself as he eyed a slice of pale, untanned skin which peeked out from under the waistband as a result of Steve reaching for whatever it was he wanted to find. Steve. Nesting? So far, that was proving very entertaining.

"I'm not ... what did you say?," Steve said, his voice muffled. "I'm looking for ... for some of my ... gear." As Danny watched, Steve elongated his upper body to reach whatever he had spied. Danny grinned as that slice of skin became a swath of pure white, revealing nearly half of Steve's butt-cheek.

"Freaking Gumby," Danny groused though when an old Army-green sleeping bag landed at his feet without Steve even needing to back out of the tight space. "What the hell are you doing?"

This wasn't boding well. There was a grunt as something shifted inside and fell within the depths of the closet. Steve's colorful curse preceded a metallic screech, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, followed by a semi-pained grunt. Seconds, later Steve was backing out on his hands and knees, dragging a few things with him. And much to Danny's chagrin, adjusting his board shorts to a more acceptable place on his hips.

"Nesting," Danny remarked as Steve rocked back on his heels, a portable cot and old, dusty Navy duffle bag in hand. "_You_ are nesting." He grinned as Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair. His tee-shirt was completely encased with a cloudy mist of dust bunnies. More glossy, tiny motes glistened in the light of the room between them.

"What? Nesting? No I'm not," Steve objected while vainly trying to bat the worst of the dust off his shirt before sneezing. "I guess people vacuum closets?"

Danny raised an eyebrow at the ludicrous attempt to change the subject, the look on his face telling. "What are you doing then, Steven? We had this conversation already."

"We need a spare cot for C.J.," Steve replied innocently. "He wants to stay in Charlie's room."

"Oh?" Danny laughed out right at the belligerent look which Steve adopted at his outburst. He crossed his arms, refusing to budge an inch as he reminded his partner about that very agreement. "We already discussed this and he's going in Grace's room where there's a perfectly good bed."

"But it's all girly and he _wants_ to stay in Charlie's room," Steve said reasonably and as if they'd never discussed the issue at all ... ad nauseam. "And besides, Charlie wants C.J. to stay in his room, too. Where'd you hide the spare blankets in case this sleeping bag stinks? Don't we have an extra one ... or two?"

Slightly out of breath, Steve stared intently at Danny as he got to his feet, foldable cot in one hand and old duffle in the other. He toed the equally ancient sleeping bag along the floor towards where Danny was standing and refusing to lift a finger to help him. Glancing down at the sleeping bag, Danny vaguely recognized it as the one Steve had once dug out for Grace's Aloha Girl's _not so wonderful_ camping adventure. He shook his head in disgust. That damned thing needed to go out in a garage sale or, better yet, the trash.

"Why do you still have that piece of crap?" Danny asked.

"I dunno. Sentimental maybe?" Steve answered, his face a mask of innocence even if his tone of voice suddenly wasn't. "I know you have a better sleeping bag, Danno. Where'd ya put it?"

The comments were voiced almost as a soft purr and Danny raised an eyebrow, partly in amusement, partly in concern. Then he blushed when Steve caught his eye. The Cheshire-cat-like grin on Steve's face was extremely disconcerting. Steve damned well knew that Danny _did_ have a better and much newer sleeping bag. An over-sized one that could fit two if push, came to shove. And Steve knew because he had actually forced Danny to buy it for that very same Aloha Girl's camping _mis_-adventure. He'd also made a point of recommending its use be demonstrated for a few other and much more interesting, more adult-like adventures. Things they hadn't quite ever gotten around to.

"What did I tell you about setting too many expectations? We still haven't told him about his mother ... and Steven. If you think about it, C.J. hasn't even asked about his mother in quite awhile. It's almost as if he knows," Danny said in a loud whisper as he fought to keep the discussion on the topic at hand. "Come on! We talked about this!"

They'd absolutely had discussed this very thing before Charlie had even arrived. It had all been worked out quite nicely and this - an old Army cot with a matching and likely very ancient, stinky sleeping bag, or even Danny's newer one - had definitely not been on the books.

"I know. But they like each other," Steve stated matter-of-factly. "They like each other and they want to share Charlie's room. C.J. is comfortable in that room. So why the heck not?" Danny grunted helplessly at Steve's simple reasonings. But there was so much more he was choosing to avoid confronting. Things which Danny couldn't avoid at all. If they allowed this change, too, they would once again be setting more and more expectations and Steve? Yeah, he _was_ nesting.

"They told you this?" Danny said. He wondered if this expectation ... this _precedent_ ... was a predecessor to a divide and conquer tactic. Where he'd have insisted on the plans as decided, Uncle Steve could be swayed ... or vice versa depending on the subject. In this though, early on, Uncle Steve was definitely the softie. Muttering as much under his breath, Danny couldn't help pursing his lips and nearly glaring at Steve as he considered the possibilities.

"Actually? Yeah, they did," Steve said, looking inordinately pleased by having that confidence. "Really, Danno. It's no big deal." He put the cot down, and then the duffle bag, folding his arms comfortably over his chest.

"It's no big deal ... so now you're choosing to put one of them on a military issue cot," Danny stated. "It's actually a very big deal if you'd take two seconds to think about it."

"It's not a big deal," Steve insisted. "Kids love this sort of thing ... it's like _camping_ ... only indoors."

"I hate camping," Danny reminded him. "Besides, two boys in the same room, on a school night? This is a recipe for disaster."

"They'll be fine," Steve said, his smile beaming as he pushed and shoved what was going to happen no matter what Danny said, down his proverbial throat.

"They'll be fooling around all night," Danny shot back. "And if they do, it's your problem, babe. Not mine." He meant to be stern in sending his message but his words quickly petered out when Steve gave a circumspect nod to look behind him.

"We have an audience," Steve added with a soft chuckle.

When he turned around, Danny wasn't entirely prepared to keep a stern expression and he had to grin at the two boys. Standing shoulder to shoulder and freshly bathed, both were just about ready for bed. Yawning widely, C.J. was gripping the Captain America toy which Charlie had graciously given to him. And predictably, Charlie was wearing his Iron Man p.j.'s.

Pointing to Charlie, C.J. finger-signed another word which Mrs. Lee had introduced them all too. Evidently, C.J. had even taught the word to Charlie because his own son was nodding in agreement.

Holding out both of his index fingers, C.J. hooked them in a C-shape. He held one hand with the C facing up and hooked the second C into the first. Then, he quickly reversed the position of his hands and did it again.

"He's my friend, dad, too," Charlie said as he mimicked C.J.'s hand gestures. It was an impressive move and behind him, Danny could literally feel Steve smirking in delight.

_Danny was so screwed._

"Fine," Danny muttered incapable of not making a face when Steve strode forward to cup his cheeks only to buss a noisy and very sloppy kiss to his forehead.

"Love you, Danno." And damned if that sexy purr wasn't back in Steve's voice.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Thank you for all the fantastic reviews ..._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Mitchell Bernfeld fidgeted in his first class seat. An hour to go on a red-eye was pure hell on earth. Especially when he just knew something inordinately evil was going to go down. He argued with himself as he fidgeted 45,000 feet up in the air, too. He had no reason to believe that the Jane Doe was really _his_. Or, that there might be a kid. A little boy named Conor James lost somewhere amongst the evil of this terrible shuffle. And yet, he forged on because it simply _had_ to be them.

"Marjorie what have you done?" He mouthed soundlessly as the woman nearest him snored on, her head comfortably propped against the wall of the plane on a small yellow pillow. He'd asked that question a thousand times since taking on this case. A case that he'd slowly been consumed by at the expense of everything and everyone else in his life. So now, as he spied a simple yellow pillow, that meant something and Bernfeld immediately focused on it.

"It's his favorite color." Bernfeld whispered to himself as he stared at the pillow. He felt dizzy for a minute; sick inside. Conor's favorite color was yellow. His aunt always wore something yellow just for Conor and especially when he was scared because the color made him feel safe. The pillow blurred into nothingness as he mentally recited a mantra he'd made up over time for what he knew about the little boy he'd never actually met.

_Hot dogs, chicken nuggets ... Captain America. Sunshine yellow. Jelly beans. Conor James didn't like peanut butter. Was afraid of water and thunder storms ... more specifically lightning. Loved vanilla ice cream, not chocolate but sometimes strawberry._

His aunt - the one who always wore yellow just for him - had bought him a pony for his fifth birthday. Oddly, Bernfeld had met the pony whereas his little owner never had the pleasure. Likely a good thing his mother had spirited him away in the dark of night because the thing was a brat of an equine if Bernfeld knew anything about horses - which he most certainly did not. But the damned thing had literally bitten his kneecap through his jeans. He still had the marks to prove it. Twin dents in his skin which could permanently stick around to remind him of the pony from hell.

"Snickers," he said. "Stupid pony." He bit back what would have been a sharp laugh. There was no need to disturb the other passengers. He was over-tired and needed to stop fretting so very badly. He rubbed hard on the tightness between his eyes, his migraine taking that moment to thud far too painfully. He was close. So close, he could taste it. But what would he find? If Marjorie was hospitalized as a Jane Doe, then ... _where was the kid_?

He came round robin back to the kid's birth father. At the mere thought of Billy Travers, his gut twisted. Bernfeld had never met him either but he'd hated him from the very beginning. Pure evil. How he'd managed to twist Marjorie Gardner into having his child and do his bidding, he hadn't a clue. And now, tired or not, Bernfeld had a bad feeling, worse than he'd ever had since he'd been hired to track them all down over thirteen months earlier.

"Marjorie. _Jorie_," he whispered her given name and nickname aloud, lost in thought. Running conversations he'd had with her parents and sister about her and her son through his head. She'd been young and impressionable when she'd met Billy Travers. He'd wooed her and taken her. He'd left her and then come back only to spirit her away. Taken Conor, too, evidently with lies about wanting to be there for his family when all he ever had wanted was the Gardner _money_.

Money and drugs ... and now. Would a father really dare _traffick_ his own son? Bernfeld scrubbed harder at the spot between his eyes. _Would he dare do it?_

Billy Travers was nothing special and yet Marjorie had never been able to see him for what he was. Now, after months of searching, Bernfeld had convinced himself so much that this Jane Doe was _his_ Marjorie, that he'd contacted his clients. He'd told them his beliefs and managed to convey his enthusiasm despite his woeful lack of proof because this time ... this time ... he simply believed that he was right. Thankfully, they'd believed him, too.

Especially Emily, Marjorie's sister. Conor's aunt and godmother who at that very moment would be making plans to get herself to Oahu just a day or so behind Mitchell Bernfeld.

He came back to himself as the plane hit a short bout of turbulence. Bernfeld looked around, his gaze sharp. No one was concerned, not even the flight attendants. The woman nearest him snored on, her yellow pillow now in sharp focus. Willing himself to calm his mind and stay the course, Bernfeld mulled over who to contact when he landed. He needed to act quickly.

For Conor's sake, he didn't have much time to wonder about a single, damned thing.

**H5O* H5O**

Danny's world exploded into a field of white. This was not how he envisioned following up on Jerry's primary lead which should have been a meet and greet. Just some couple in Section 8 housing on the west side of Honolulu.

He never met a couple because ... the one guy who'd opened the door ... ? Danny moaned as he fought completely fading away. That _guy_? He was Russian ... and on some list. They knew each other on sight and it wasn't a good thing. Both had reacted in their own learned ways.

Danny couldn't remember more than yanking out his weapon since the Russian was on the move too. A flash of an angry eye. All hell breaking loose. Then after?

Danny couldn't remember more than hitting the concrete hallway like a rag doll, prone, his gun flying out of his grip. It was where he was at that very moment, his cheek not the only thing scraped and bruised by the fall. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth where his lip had been torn open. He breathed in and then out, giving out with a feeble cough before thinking that he should open his eyes. It could be important that he actually move ... every second that he wasted, just lying there was one where he stayed out in the open and at risk. Stubbornly, Danny blinked his eyes open only to see a fuzzy beige wall, wondering who'd just played such a dirty joke on him and more interestingly, why. He coughed again, tasting blood on his lips. His eyes dipped and he forced them back open, part of his brain going into survival mode. Oddly though, he felt nothing at all other than the hardness of the concrete he was lying on, something he sensed at the fringes of his vague awareness, would be changing at some point. And when it changed, he'd be in a world of hurt.

It was surreal really. Staring at a wall and not understanding how close or far away it was from his hand. His lazy gaze flickered to his left hand. Palm down, his fingers were lax and splayed open, slightly tented.

He had a vision as he stared at those five fingers or maybe it was just a memory from the prior evening. For all he knew, it was happening that very minute. It looked real and superseded the taste of blood on his tongue, kept the screams, shouts and sirens at bay. Danny wasn't sure what it was and yet, he should know if what he was seeing had really happened or if his brain was being cruel; making things up on him.

As he lay there, his mind gave him a picture. A moving picture of something special taking place in Charlie's dimly lit room. Danny was on the outside, looking in.

_Steve, impossibly too long, in the middle of Charlie's small bed, his legs hanging well off the end of the mattress. A child is curled up on either side of him. Charlie's there on the right, his head on Steve's shoulder, his index finger following along on the page as his uncle reads a bedtime story out loud. On Steve's left, C.J. is cuddled up just as snug. He's still holding the Captain America action figure but he's looking at the book, too. Looking at the pictures, watching Charlie's finger move from line to line. _

_But his free hand ..._

Danny's lips twitched upwards.

_C.J.'s free hand is _ _on Steve's chest, not hearing the words, but feeling each and every one of them. His hand is moving up and down _ _with the gentle rise and fall of Steve's chest. Steve continues to read, his expression full of love and contentment._

Danny sighed, smiling to himself. He didn't know what Steve had felt by the blatant show of trust, but just by bearing witness to it, Danny could well imagine.

Part of him knew that had really happened. It was a vivid memory. Staring at his own fingers now though as they came back into focus, he tried to flex them, a part of his brain wanting to sign for help, another part of his brain amused by the thought. Nevertheless, he only managed a weak flick of a finger before his eyelids dipped closed.

There was nothing much after that.

He barely registered sirens from the street below or the footsteps running towards him or the sound of Lou Grover's voice. Because by then, it all just blinked out.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	14. Chapter 14

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H50**

Steve thumbed Danny's chin in his direction, tilting Danny's head a bit to get a better look at the swelling along his cheekbone. It took all of his self-control to keep his anger in check and keep his hand from shaking.

"What the hell happened? Danny? What were you doing out here alone?" Steve asked, his tone severe. As soon as he'd seen Danny sitting on the ambulance's bumper looking dazed and blinking owlishly at the EMT's, his temper had gone through the roof.

"Wasn'lone. G'vr's 'ere. G'alead on C.J. Buh … d'guy. He h'me," Danny slurred stupidly. "I fell. He h'me." The syllables were barely making it out of his mouth making Steve wonder just how badly he'd been injured. He glanced to the medic, watching her every move and trying to gauge her expression. She was good though: fast, but efficient. Her face told him nothing.

Steve sucked in his bottom lip, scowling as he examined his partner from head to toe. Disheveled and knocked ten ways sideways to Sunday, Danny didn't look anything like the well-dressed man who'd left their house earlier that day. As for the lead, of course Steve knew about it; they might not have been together, but they'd gotten the call at the same time. Jerry had conferenced them all together from HQ. He'd been overly excited by a call received from a certain Kelly Hughes, a woman who had finally stepped forward to admit possibly knowing their Jane Doe. The woman had sounded reasonable on the phone and not like some of the crackpots they'd fielded over the last many days. Kelly Hughes sounded credible. The tip worth following up on. But as Steve literally began to hold Danny's head up in the palm of his hand while the EMT catered to his wounds, something began to sit wrong inside his chest.

It was just possible that this _Kelly Hughes_ had provided just enough information to sound as if she might be able to give them all a chance to identify where C.J.'s mother might have been living or even squatting. A place where the mother and son might have belonged; where people that may have known them. Potentially even lead them to the little boy's mysterious father.

Steve's doubts resurfaced though as he looked around the scene and continued to hold up Danny's head which was sagging more and more. He had just been leaving C.J. off with the Lee's when the call came in. He'd just about been swearing on a Bible that he would be back by six o'clock for the boy ... if not earlier ... to go _home_. Danny who was closer to the address, had already dropped his son at school and was nearly to the Palace. He was free and clear to switch gears on the fly and, with Lou Grover meeting him as back-up, was on tap for checking out said lead.

Looking around at the volume of officers and cordoned off chaos as inquisitive civilians stared on, Steve's personal spidey senses went into overdrive. Something about the timing of this call and what had happened suddenly seemed entirely contrived.

"Danny? Did you see this Kelly Hughes? Her partner?" Steve asked as he turned his attention back towards the injured blond.

_"Hmm? N-nno,_" Danny mumbled. His voice faded and he sighed wearily, further losing the plot. His eyes were closing more and more as he was cared for, his lean more obvious now to the right. With no hope of regaining his balance, Steve wound up taking most of his weight.

"Detective?" The EMT asked as Danny sagged heavily to the side. When he didn't answer, she turned to Steve. "We have to get a move on, Commander. Now."

"Okay, do it. Danno? Hey, look at me," Steve said worriedly as the EMT motioned to her partner for a gurney. "They're going to take you in, buddy." Evidently Danny had refused the use of a gurney early on, but his right to declining that offer had just been duly revoked. Now as Steve gently turned Danny's chin, silently asking for Danny to track his gaze - something he failed at miserably - Steve could easily tell that his partner was in the process of completely checking out.

"Take it easy, Detective. We need to lay you down now," the medic said as she continued her examination. Danny merely grunted in reply. The sound was dull, noncommittal. Eyes closed, his lips adopted a grim, pained line while the EMT examined the back of his head.

"What the hell was he hit with?" Steve exclaimed as he eyed the reddened purpling mark already swelling along Danny's jawline, his expression black as the EMT's gloved fingers came away from the back of Danny's head streaked with red. Despite the thick wad of sterile gauze she was holding in place, the cut on the back of his scalp was bleeding heavily. "Danno, what the hell did you get hit with?"

"Ow," Danny mumbled, head bowed as the woman continued her exam. "Dunno …"

"I was told brass knuckles. He's going to need stitches on the back of his head and should definitely have a scan once he gets to the hospital … he lost consciousness for a decent amount of time according to Captain Grover and I wouldn't doubt he has at least a concussion," the EMT noted astutely as her partner rechecked Danny's vital signs. "Ten to one he'll be staying overnight and maybe longer."

"Brass knuckles? Are you shitting me?" Steve hissed through his teeth as he gently ran his fingers through Danny's hair, wincing when Danny did as he traced near the tender area. "What happened to ducking, Danno?" He asked softly as he vainly tried to quell his anger. "Or beating the shit out of the bad guys first?"

"Dunno," Danny replied rather morosely. "Whu' happ'nd?"

Steve briefly closed his eyes at Danny's obtuse reply. His partner's cage had been rattled hard enough to scramble his head and he pressed a quick kiss to Danny's temple.

"Stay here," he said as Danny squinted into his face. "I'll be right back."

"Where y'goin'?" Danny slurred. "C'n I come-oo? R'we doin' a'shing?" Steve groaned as Danny's lisp worsened from both swelling and confusion. He shushed him while trying to keep him quiet.

"Shhh. No. No _things_. I'm just going over there to check on some….thing. Some … _one_," Steve answered tightly. He put his hands on Danny's shoulders when Danny tried to unravel his body from the bumper to stand.

"Lou's 'ere ...," Danny mumbled, his eyes practically crossing at the effort it took to speak.

"Yeah, I know," Steve said. "And I'm going to go see him. But I want you to stay right where you are … I got this, Danno. Sit down; stay put."

Danny didn't reply as he allowed Steve to sit him back down, not on the rear of the ambulance, but carefully on the edge of the gurney. "Sit back," Steve urged Danny quietly. He guided Danny backwards with the help of an EMT on each side of his partner. "Sit back and then I'm going to talk to Grover. I got this, buddy." Steve scrubbed hard at his face as he stepped back, allowing the medics room to situate the blond better. In response to the change in activity, Danny merely squinted back at him as if trying to understand all the words Steve had just thrown his way.

"We're going to load him up, Commander," the medic said.

"Yeah," Steve said. "Take good care of him." He lowered his voice then, his whisper meant only for Danny's ears even if Steve wasn't sure Danny would hear or even understand him. "I'll be right behind you, babe. Be good and just rest; I got this now." Brushing his knuckles lightly across Danny's cheek before stalking away, Steve instantly aimed himself at Yuri Bledsoe, his eyes taking on a murderous glint.

"Take it easy, Steve," Lou Grover admonished as he neatly stepped in front of him, preventing what was going to be a bloodbath if Steve had his druthers. "Not here … this isn't what Danny came here for and we got Bledsoe dead to rights anyway."

"Yeah? Well what did he come here for then? I'll tell you why! He came out here on a very simple fact-finding mission after dropping Charlie off at school!" Steve spat out angrily. "And you know what, Lou? That guy …," and Steve pointed to Bledsoe. "Is there a Kelly Hughes even here?" Steve bristled when Grover shook his head, his own expression bleak and worried. "We were setup. _Why_? As of now … that guy there just gave me a brand new reason why he and I are going to have a little dance about all of those rights."

"Seemed like a decent lead ... but I agree ... this stinks to high Heaven," Lou tried to explain. "I was only a few minutes behind Danny ... I was right here when Bledsoe had already decked him."

"_Son of a bitch_. I know all of that," Steve spat out under his breath. He knew it wasn't Grover's fault and Grover knew the anger was meant for him, too. Grover had stepped up to the plate. They all worked together. Steve had been further out by a lousy fifteen minutes, getting C.J. re-acclimated to the idea of spending a day with Mr. and Mrs. Lee. This should not have happened.

Fifteen minutes for him and no more than three for Lou Grover. Evidently though, Danny had taken it upon himself ignore his own number one rule about waiting for backup in order to poke around. And why not? Steve glanced up at the apartment building, knowing he'd have done the exact same thing. It certainly was benign enough and a logical residence. _Maybe_.

Something was beginning to feel wrong to both Steve and to Grover. Steve's blood was boiling as he watched the two EMT's ready Danny for transport on the gurney, his partner was slumped over, his body limp. He'd stopped arguing, even talking. His eyes were closed, his complexion ashen. The EMT's were left to do their jobs and Steve scowled, his mood as black as his expression must have been when his eyes settled back on Yuri Bledsoe.

"We were setup," he growled at Grover. He looked at the apartment building behind him. It held a mix of housing options but he'd never assume a guy like Bledsoe living in it. He'd hurt Danny and if Steve recalled correctly - which he certainly did - Bledsoe was involved with a number of criminal activities with drug dealing and child pornography at the top of a very long, felonious list. He was helpless to think of C.J. next and Jerry's warnings. If Bledsoe had anything to do with that child or his mother's current state, Steve was bound and determined to find out. Then there'd be even more hell to pay.

"Steve … no," Lou warned him again as Steve started to move, that one goal on his mind.

Steve feinted to the left and then neatly side-stepped Lou who lost his balance. Targeting Bledsoe, the man actually had the decency to look somewhat apologetic for having decked Steve's partner.

"It was a misunderstanding! I swear!" Yuri bleated as Steve bore down on him. "I didn't know he was lookin' for somebody else!"

"But he found you instead when he knocked, didn't he? And you saw fit to deck him with a set of brass knuckles. So, now it's _not_ … a misunderstanding," Steve clarified as he squared his shoulders and completely took over Bledsoe's limited airspace next to the HPD patrol car. "Who are you working for, Yuri? You attacked a police officer - you showed intent. You apparently were ready for him. You didn't run. My partner came here attempting to identify a missing person. What do you know about it. Who the hell do you work for?"

"Know about what? I don't know nuthin' about nobody! And besides, I only work for myself. Like I _said_," Yuri whined plaintively. "I made a mistake … it was a _misunderstanding._"

"You don't know a damned thing, huh?" Steve ground out. "I don't believe you." He edged closer, forcing Yuri to look up into his face. "Brass knuckles? Tell me Yuri, how do brass knuckles figure into this little misunderstanding?"

"Well, yeah ... a guy's got to protect himself," Yuri insisted, wincing when he realized how wrong those words were coming from a felon to a law enforcement officer. He back-pedaled as best as he could, but he had nowhere to go and nothing to say. Bledsoe tried to back up and bumped into Lou Grover. He swallowed hard as his space was consumed by the two angry men.

"Why did he have _your_ address? Tell me that," Steve hissed. "Your address, Yuri. What does that mean? I want a name. I want to know how much you were paid ... by who and when. Most of all, I want to know why."

"I dunno why y'all got _my_ address. Maybe I was setup!" Yuri tried to object. He glared at Steve as best he could and then nodded as if agreeing with himself. "Hell yeah. Maybe it was _me_ who got setup. Did you ever think of that?"

"No," Grover drawled. "Never did. Never will; so answer the man."

"So what you don't believe me," Yuri said in disgust. "I don't give a rat's-ass if you believe me, or not." He shrugged best as he could with his hands cuffed behind his back. He nodded next towards the ambulance. "It ain't my fault. Your partner there? He didn't say nuthin' about looking for some missing person."

"Maybe because you weren't paid to give him a chance?" Lou asked nastily.

"Wasn't paid by nobody to do nuthin'," Bledsoe insisted as he cocked his head, allowing Steve to get a glimpse of a black tattoo behind his ear. His eyes glittered for a moment, changing his entire expression from that of cowardice to one of arrogance. "Hey? You mentioned a missing person ... is it that Jane Doe that was in the news? I bet I know what this is all about," the Russian said as if something was finally dawning on him. "It's been all over the street ... all this talk." He shifted from foot to foot, that glint in his eye meaningful. "I bet your boy was looking for information on that crazy Jane Doe bitch ... the one with the little dummy kid. Am I right? You payin' a finders fee on information 'bout them?"

"What?" Steve asked dangerously, his posture changing entirely. He glanced at Lou, his heart in his throat. "_What_ did you just say?"

"What, what? I said, am I right about you _po_-lice payin' up a finders fee for info on that girl?" Bledsoe repeated as he stared up into Steve's face. "The one with that dumb kid." He might have thought he was being funny or even smart, in truth though, he'd only poked the bear and Lou was helpless to prevent Steve from clenching his fists a millisecond before he planted one squarely into Yuri's sturdy Russian jaw

"Shit … Steve. Don't do it," Lou muttered uselessly and without any real intent to stop what had already happened. The crack was audible and just for an instant or two, nothing happened. The felon continued to stare at Steve for a good few seconds until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crumpled boneless to the pavement.

"Yeah well he deserved that didn't he?," Lou groused under his breath when the closest HPD officers startled alert. "You couldn't have waited until he gave us a name though, could you?" He complained to Steve. "You know he's lying ... I know he's lying."

"Damned straight he's lying," Steve replied. His lip curled upwards into a dangerous leer. "Think about it, Lou. What we issued about our Jane Doe never mentioned a _kid_ ... we intentionally kept the boy out of things. So Yuri, here? He got paid off and used ... he's a distraction for something bigger. He knows a lot more than he's letting on." Steve gestured angrily towards the unconscious felon. "He _doesn't_ know who paid him off, Lou ... that much I do believe." He ignored the two officers who were dragging Bledsoe to his feet at Grover's orders only to push him into the rear of the cruiser. "But, I want the back-story. I want to know how he got the call; what was said and when. He _knows_ about our Jane Doe ... he knows about C.J and it's all connected," Steve said while shoving his finger into Grover's chest. He glared at the bigger man who raised his hands high in agreement, holding his ground even when Steve's hand slapped him hard for good measure.

"Yeah, I got it Steve … I got it. I'm all over it."

"Book 'em then, Lou …. get him the hell out of here," Steve demanded as he stepped back, rubbing his knuckles. "This woman ... this Kelly Hughes probably doesn't even exist. Make sure though; question everyone here. Get some uniforms to go door to door, ask questions about C.J.'s mother. Just his mother and see if they offer up anything more. But _you_ ... I want Bledsoe raked over the coals and I want _you_ to do it, Lou. Find out whatever you can. What were his orders ... what does he know about C.J. and his mother ... I want whatever he knows no matter how little."

"Like, I said," Lou repeated. "I'm on it. Consider it a done deal, Steve."

"Wait." Steve started to turn on his heel and then stopped dead in his tracks. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up and he shook his head, worriedly. He didn't like what he was thinking and these particular thoughts were completely unacceptable. If there was any truth in what Bledsoe intimated, then _she _had been here. C.J. had been here, too at one time and people would remember a deaf child. Jerry's warnings began to weigh even heavier on his mind as Steve impatiently watched the ambulance leaving the scene, Danny inside. He wanted to be there - had virtually promised he would be - but he knew what Danny would want; Steve knew where he had to be.

"Lou, get Duke and two of the closest HPD units over to the Lee's house ASAP," Steve demanded. "I'll call them myself right now to give them a heads-up that I'm on my way back there, too. I don't want them alone; if there's a hint of trouble before I get there, take C.J and the Lee's into protective custody."

"Doing it now," Lou said as he tapped his comm link and started barking orders immediately. "Lukela? It's Grover. I need you and your best men ... now."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	15. Chapter 15

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H50**

Once Steve's big truck was out of sight, C.J. scuffed his feet along the floor as he followed Mrs. Lee back into her kitchen. He had Lion in one hand and his Captain America action figure in the other. He was fighting back tears now that Steve was gone to work even though the man had promised C.J. that he'd back later to take him home. C.J. had signed the word _home_ and Steve had nodded, smiling with a thumbs-up sign, too. But C.J. was still just a little bit scared that it might not happen. With everyone gone to different places, he felt very much alone and was maybe even feeling jealous that his new friend, Charlie, had gotten to go to _school_.

_'What would you like for lunch later?'_ Mrs. Lee was signing and speaking to him at the same time. C.J. stopped walking to watch her lips and her hands. She was really good at _talking_ to him, sometimes though, he didn't know all of her finger signs. She seemed to know that, too, and had already taught him a new word or two. Now though, he at least understood _lunch_ and _later. _He made an unhappy face; he didn't care. He was still fighting back his tears and wondering about Steve and Danny while switching to hold Lion by one of his fuzzy ears.

_'Not hungry,'_ he said, feeling very sorry for himself even if Mrs. Lee was nice and had lots of toys, books and crayons. He stood there not sure of what to do until Mrs. Lee made another suggestion.

_'It's okay, C.J. Go play,'_ she said as she pointed towards the small play-room just beyond the kitchen. The woman smiled at his questioning look before she nodded, making a motion that she would be in the kitchen if he needed her. _'Go on ... do what you like ...'_

He wandered away down the short hall to the sunny room with its big windows and bright paint colors. Short book cases lined one wall crammed full of books in all sizes and shapes. There were two small tables with chairs just his size and a soft mat on the floor with colorful numbers and letters. He put Lion on the letter 'L', but kept his Captain America action figure tight in his fist as he decided what to do. C.J. had been allowed to play here with Danny and Steve when they'd visited Mr. and Mrs. Lee that very same week. They'd looked at the books and the toys - some dolls for little girls who might visit Mrs. Lee, too - investigated the closet that held board games and even more toys for playing outside.

From their visit, C.J. understood that he could pick what he wanted to play with. So with some intent, he zero'd in on the small stack of coloring books kept on one shelf, finally choosing the one he remembered had wild animals in it. He would find a picture of a lion and color it in just like his own special Lion.

He sat on the floor then with the book and a tub of pudgy crayons, right beside Lion with Captain America on his knee. Right in the middle of a warm sunny puddle of light, paging through zebras, monkeys and panthers until a shadow blocked the light. Something flickered quickly by the expanse of windows and he glanced up, but whatever it was was gone as quickly as it had come and he went back to the coloring book.

'_Lion_,' he signed to his own lion toy when he founded what he was looking for. The picture in the coloring book made him smile as he creased the page so it would stay where he wanted while picking out a bright orange crayon first. He would color in the fluffy mane and then ... C.J. lurched to the side, startling badly and dropping the crayon when a dark, black shape suddenly loomed over his head right there in the room with him.

He looked up into the angry face of a man and shook his head, his mouth gaping open wide.

_'Hey, kid,'_ the man said and C.J. _screeched_. He knew he was _screeching_ as he instantly tried to crawl away, Captain America forgotten as it tumbled off his knee. He scuttled away on his hands and knees, breathing hard and knocking over one of the small chairs, not knowing where he was going but needing to just get away. The man -_ his father -_ was bigger though and much faster and C.J. didn't get far. He had nowhere to go. A strong hand latched onto his ankle first, hurting him as he was dragged backwards on his stomach until another hand grabbed his wrist. He cried out again as his wrist twisted painfully, helpless to prevent himself from being lifted upwards into the man's arms.

_'Daddy,'_ C.J. tried to sign with a shaking hand, only to get that hand sharply slapped away from his forehead.

_'Dumb kid. Let's go.'_ The words were mean and plain and C.J. understood them as he was carted down the hallway and past the kitchen. He caught a fast glimpse of Mrs. Lee's legs peeking out from under the kitchen table and then a bit of her shoulder. She was laying on the floor, not moving, and as his father carried him out the lanai, across the grassy lawn, C.J. burst into tears.

_'D-daddy?'_ He tried to ask again even as he was pushed roughly into the back seat of a car. He tried to _ask_ what was _wrong_ next, but his father only slapped at his hands, his lips moving angrily at him.

_'Shut up! Sit there!' _His father's face was mean as he shouted at him and C.J. shrank down. Hands stinging, his wrist hurting, his father slapped at him one more time for good measure before slamming the car door shut. Terrified and confused, C.J. stuck his wounded fingers in his mouth and closed his eyes to everything. He curled up on the back seat sensing the change in the air as his father opened the driver's side door and got in.

Refusing to look as he huddled on his belly there on the back seat, tears streaming down his cheeks, C.J. felt the rumble through his body as the car begin to move.

**H5O* H50**

"WHAT! How bad!?" As worry for Danny morphed into anger and frustration, Steve pounded the steering wheel of his truck as he raced back to Janice Lee's home. This wasn't happening! It defied logic. Janice Lee had been discovered, bloodied and unconscious in her kitchen by the first HPD team who'd arrived. And C.J. was apparently missing ... likely abducted.

_"Bad; we've notified the husband ... he hadn't even made it to his office yet,"_ Duke Lukela said, the tension evident in his voice._ "Ambulance is just leaving ..."_

Steve dug his fingernails into the palms of his hand as he accelerated, dodging around other vehicles on a calculated path through the heavy H-1 traffic. _Not C.J. Nonononono._ His brain fought to find a reason ... anything ...something that might make sense.

"Where's the boy? He's got to be there, Duke!" Steve was still shouting. He also knew C.J. was gone and his demands useless. And with Janice apparently badly injured, they'd have no leads. Nothing at all to go on.

_"We're looking for him, Steve ... we've issued a Maile Amber Alert, "_ Duke was explaining. _"He's not here and we're scouring everything, including pulling cam feeds to see what we get. We have signs of a rear door entry and of a struggle in the kitchen. We believe the boy was taken from the playroom where he'd been coloring ... the book and crayons ... a stuffed animal ... an over turned chair ..."_

"No, that's unacceptable." Steve shook his head at the impossibility of it all, almost failing at taking it all in. When the hell had this even happened? He needed to think because there simply had to be clues they were all missing.

"Duke, I need something and I need it now. That boy's life depends upon it." That part was true, too. Steve knew that even without a shred of evidence other than Jerry Ortega's patchworked findings on the internet. They just didn't have enough to go on there either. Regardless of his communication skills, C.J.'s age was limiting unto itself. His deceased mother would have been there only opportunity to learn the truth. Now? Now it looked like they only had Jerry Bledsoe.

"God dammit," he muttered under his breath, "Duke, I'll be there in less than five," he said next, ending the connection only to have his cell phone ring immediately. A glance to the screen flashed Lou Grover's name.

"Lou! You need to ramp it up on Bledsoe," Steve virtually shouted as he accepted the call. "I don't care what you have to do, I need names ... places ..."

_"Steve ... wait! Listen ... we ...,"_ Lou started at the same time.

"There was a break-in at the Lee's," Steve pushed out, interrupting the older man, mid sentence. "Lou ... C.J.'s gone ... "

_"Steve! Steve, stop a minute and listen to me ...,_" Lou shouted back. _"I know! There's a private investigator here - he showed up this morning from the mainland. Mitchell Bernfeld. He was hired by the family and he's been tracking C.J. and his mother for months. Now listen to me because I don't have time to explain it all. But there's a man. Billy Travers. He's C.J.'s father and he has him ... he's the one who took him, Steve, and you need to get down to the Harborside. I'm already on my way and begun planning to set up a perimeter ... Now you listen up and you listen up good. You go in quiet and damn it, man. Wait for me!"_

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes: **_Thank you to both Phoebe and JazzieG who test the muse and challenge it to be better. So so glad this chapter is what it is. Thanks so very much!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H50**

C.J. stood in the middle of the room with his head down, staring at his bare feet while a man walked around him, taking pictures with his cell phone camera. Other than his father, C.J. didn't know any of the people watching him, though he'd had a wild wish that his mommy might be there. She wasn't of course and C.J.'s tears had started up in earnest all over again. He sniffled now as a woman crouched in front of him, using a damp cloth to wipe his tears away and smooth his hair back. She tapped under his chin and pointed sternly to the man with the phone.

_'Look,'_ she said._ 'Look there.'_

Sniffling, C.J. looked at the man who quickly took a few more pictures of him. He looked at the woman, afraid when she tugged him around, making him stand to face the small round window.

_'Good,'_ the woman said to him. She smiled but it was a mean smile and C.J. went back to staring at his feet.

Sometimes, when the man taking pictures stopped moving, the woman would hurry to him and comb his hair or fix the clothes he was wearing. She would turn him this way and that; try to make him stand a certain way. She'd make him cross his arms or put his hand on his hip. She would try to make him do things he didn't understand. She was the same woman who had taken him from his father when they'd gotten on the big boat. She'd taken his old clothes away, bathed him quickly in the shower and made a fuss over his swollen wrist, bringing his father into the small bathroom to look.

His father had made an angry face when the woman had shown him C.J.'s hurt wrist and bruised fingers. She had looked mad at his father, but then his father had walked away and he hadn't come back. The woman hadn't cared about C.J.'s wrist after that either. She'd only poked at his legs then with a long finger so she could dress him in new clothes. He'd obediently lifted each leg, needing to hold her shoulder for balance, blinking back tears when she'd tugged a new shirt on over his head. The clothes were new and stiff; he didn't like them at all. White shorts with a dark blue belt, and a powder blue shirt with a little red sailboat on its pocket. She'd roughly tucked the shirt into the shorts and then tightened the belt. She'd combed his wet hair and chucked him roughly under his chin time and again so he'd keep his head up. She'd been doing that now, too. Using her finger to demand that C.J. keep his head up as the man continued to take pictures of him. But C.J. was scared and tired. His wrist hurt and he was thirsty. He wanted to leave but was very much afraid to move from where his father was making him stand in the middle of the room.

Through his lashes, C.J. dared to look at his father when the man taking pictures seemed to stop for real. The woman got up and walked away, leaving C.J. to stand where he was. His father was smiling and laughing to two other men. He stopped though when the first man with the cell phone pointed to a computer and everyone looked at the screen. As the man with the cell phone tapped a few keys and nodded to the computer again, C.J. knew they were looking at the pictures.

As he watched, his father's smile grew even bigger. He pointed to C.J. and then said something to the woman who nodded. She walked back to C.J. only to take him by the arm and lead him from the room. She took him to another place, a big bedroom, and then flipped a switch on the wall. Light came out through the slats of another door and C.J. tried to back up when she opened it.

_'Get in,'_ her mouth said to him and C.J. shook his head. It was a closet and he just knew she was going to make him stay there all by himself.

_'No ... please,'_ he awkwardly signed with his left hand even though she wasn't paying attention to him. She didn't even look at him as she shoved him inside and closed the door on his frightened face. C.J. opened his mouth and then scrubbed hard at his eyes as he stumbled forward. He put his hand on the door and pushed, but it wouldn't open. There was no handle on the inside either. A moment later, the light went out and C.J.'s eyes welled with new tears. He'd been left entirely alone and even if it wasn't night time and some light came in through the slats of the door, the small closet was dark enough. Exhausted and terrified as he sensed the boat rocking in the water, C.J. shook his head and automatically signed '_no_' again and again.

He wanted to go _home_. He wanted Danny and Steve. He was scared for Mrs. Lee. He wanted ... his mommy and he knew ... just _knew_, she was never coming back to get him like she'd always promised.

Wanting and wishing he at least had his Lion to hold and cuddle, C.J. backed away into the farthest, deepest corner of the closet. He pushed himself behind the few long garment bags and one or two fancy dresses until he could just see part of the door. He slid down the wall to sit, his legs tucked up. Careful of his sore wrist, C.J. buried his head in his knees and sobbed.

**H5O* H50**

He went in the water far away from the docks, Danny's complaining voice inside his head._ 'Any opportunity to take your shirt off ... get wet ... show off.'_ Steve's nose wrinkled in an odd combination of both worry and amusement. That was the best he could do at a grin while sluicing through the water towards the docked boat where Billy Travers had taken C.J. His inner-Danny couldn't bitch too much though because he'd waited for Lou, met Mitchell Bernfeld and then been filled in with information, the likes of which Steve, at the eleventh hour, could only have dreamed about. He'd dotted all the 'i's' and crossed all the 't's' and now everything was entirely up to him.

_"Your man. Jerry? He was on the right track."_ Bernfeld had told them his incredible story inside the marina office. He'd insisted upon coming, and then been relegated to the rear of a patrol car.

_"He was close but he lacked the intel I have on Travers ... his son, Conor, is defective in his mind. He's nothing more than an expendable meal ticket and Travers will use that boy ... he'll use him anyway he can ... including selling him to the highest bidder."_

_Defective_. Steve had never set eyes on Billy Travers and he already wanted to wipe the street with him. But the docks would do. Steve's eyes narrowed as he dove deeper, thoughts of both C.J. and Danny foremost in his mind. The last report from the hospital was that his partner had lapsed into unconsciousness while at the scene and still had yet to waken. He'd be undergoing any number of tests at that very moment while Steve went about bringing C.J. home. He had zero doubts that he'd bring the boy home, too. Mitchell Bernfeld had been a god-send.

The private investigator had given Steve the perfect storm on a silver platter. Steve and his team had gone from dead in the water to being in full control and for that, Steve would always thank the man. He'd worry about other issues and the reason behind the private investigator's volume of intel, later. Now though, Steve went in low with Danny's voice constant over his mental shoulder, however it was at least down to a dull roar. He might be boarding the vessel solo, but Steve had back-up and then some to spare. Lou was up high with his old SWAT team, another contingent of HPD officers was maintaining a tight perimeter and the Coast Guard was hanging just off the reef should this still manage to all go to shit in a hand-bag.

It wouldn't happen like that though. Steve refused to allow anything less than putting an end to Travers_ ... his way_. As Steve approached the boat, he thought of the final exchange he'd had with Bernfeld. An honest thanks from Bernfeld on behalf of C.J.'s family for which Steve had only one reply.

_"Commander McGarrett? Thank you for everything you've done for Conor. Jerry mentioned so much ... how you've personally taken care of him and made him feel safe," the P.I. had been saying. "It's above and beyond ..."_

_"C.J." Steve had interrupted the short speech right before an HPD officer had escorted Bernfeld from the area. He'd stared at Bernfeld long and hard. __"We call him C.J."_

Conor James Gardner. Bernfeld called him Conor as evidently the family must; but for Steve and everyone who knew the boy, he'd always be C.J. And Steve intended to continue to take care of him and bring him home safely. Wherever that home might wind up being.

_Focus_, Steve chastised himself as he gauged where he was in relation go the docked boat. He was close and so, he pushed that all to the side now and focused solely on his goals. Stripped down to just his cargoes and using a snorkeling mask, other than his hands, Steve's only other weapon was a knife. He didn't need anything else. From the marina's small office, he'd identified Travers' boat with the dock-master's assistance. True the felon was careful and extremely cagey, proven by how closely he'd been monitoring his son's daily care with such precision and so horrifically unbeknownst to 5-0 to take him within minutes of being left with the Lee's; but errors were now being made.

The one guard on deck anticipated approach from the docks. That meant Travers was over-confident, relaxing. Even cocky by his success.

Steve kicked through the water with a vengeance as he raced to validate Travers' mistakes and use all of it to his own advantage. Attack was not expected from the water and as he'd been the entire time, when Steve surfaced, the guard was still on that very same perch, one leg nonchalantly tossed over the rail as he surveyed only the dock and marina parking lot. Both of which were happily nearly void of civilians not only because HPD had been slowly cutting off access, but also because it was simply an early mid-week morning. Any other charters had gone out hours earlier just after dawn. Again, providence. Again, the perfect storm since conditions couldn't have been more in Steve's favor.

He came up on the far side of the boat, well away from that one guard. He stopped, listened to the soft sounds of laughter echoing up from below deck and then slowly eased himself on board. Staying low, he knew both Lou and Duke Lukela had eyes on his progress. Once he dispatched the Travers' guard dog and confirmed the all clear to close out the first stage of the mission, a small team led by Lou Grover would convene to back up Steve's descent below decks. Of which, only one outcome would be acceptable.

No fuss. No muss. One precious little boy in hand.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	17. Chapter 17

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note**: _Rescue time... I seriously can't thank Phoebe and Jazzie enough for all the ongoing cheerleading and patience! You two are truly awesome and so helpful to fine-tuning things from so many different directions. If this is a good story, then it's due to you both. Thank you!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H50**

He stayed low as he rounded the rear of the boat, mindful of shadows cast by the sun on his back and the occasional port-hole window where his movements might be seen. Steve did pause though, just for a hairsbreadth as he progressed by each, his ears and eyes sharp as he ticked off voices and tried to gain some additional information.

"They loved him. The auction's on," a male voice said. "Highest bidder ...," the voice faded for a moment, then picked up again. " ... kid's gonna score us _thousands."_

"Right age, perfect features ... kid's damned photogenic," another voice chimed in. "He's irresistible to the right buyer." The accent was strong. Female. And Steve easily pegged it as the woman Bernfeld had told them about. A dangerous woman with ties to a Thai smuggling cartel.

"You put him away? He can't get out?" The first male voice asked and Steve pressed as closely to window as he could, not daring to breathe.

"Snug as a bug. He's not going anywhere. Besides, he scared to shit ... where would he go?" The woman laughed softly. "They're going to eat him alive you know. He's a _dream_. Thousands? No ... hundreds of thousands."

"Fuck me," a third voice burst out, laughing loudly. "You're a sick man Travers ... but sick in all the right ways."

Steve fought to stay where he was. Three voices below in the cabin. One man on deck. Four was hardly a fight for him. However, the sound-bytes were more than enough for Steve to feel zero remorse for what went through his mind next: he wanted to _destroy_ all of them. He plastered himself lower still, trying to see anything and anyone but only able to catch the edge of a man's shoe. Not satisfied with his limited ability to know where C.J. might really be, Steve refocused his attention on the guard. Stage one had to be put to bed first and it needed to be efficient and absolutely silent. He crept closer avoiding the sun and hiding his shadow. Calmly stepping over rigging to where the guard was perched on the stern's rail; his bare feet not making a sound.

Steve sneered at a sudden flash of exposed skin and the holstered weapon on a hip. The guy was bored, incompetent, and even getting hot based on the way he lazily rolled his neck, showing a partly untanned - and completely unprotected - swath of throat.

"Hey," Steve hissed through his teeth at the same time he struck. He hit hard and strong, knowing that his softly voiced sound would startle the man and keep him off-center. As the guard struggled to simultaneously unholster his weapon and free his leg from where he'd casually slung it over the rail, Steve didn't wait, nor did he even consider using his knife. He stopped shy of snapping the man's neck in two after snaking his arm around the guy's throat. He squeezed as the man fell into him, cutting off the man's air supply and blood flow to the brain. Even as fingernails scraped down his forearms hard enough to draw blood and the man's weight threatened to take him down to the deck, Steve hung on until the brief fight faded away.

Anything more than simply putting the guy to sleep and not choking him to death or quite literally breaking his neck, took a considerable amount of self-control. And just maybe no small amount of his inner Danny harping at him over his mental shoulder since that voice was suddenly back with a vengeance.

_'Behave! Might need 'em alive, Steven ... for later ... to save any others ... like C.J.'_

"Shut up, Danno. I got this," Steve muttered as he confirmed that his self-control was most definitely still intact, he dragged the dead weight from the rail, securely zip-tying both wrists and ankles. He was on his feet next, not needing to look up to know that Grover had been on the move and was virtually ready to board the boat. Holding his fingers up, Steve noted the three voices he heard and the one hatch leading below deck.

"Three for sure. Two men, one woman; expect anything though...plus the boy," Steve whispered softly to Grover as he quietly eased himself on board, handing Steve a tac-vest and his weapon at the same time. The two SWAT men which Grover had hand-picked, flanked the older man on either side.

"Only the one hatch. I don't think the boy's in the main cabin; but we can't risk it, so we need to go in fast. Really fast; take them out. Be careful. Very careful ... just in case C.J. is out in the open. That boy comes first, you hear me? The boy ... and any computer equipment." Steve looked at all three ensuring they understood and started moving. "Now. We go now."

The team cautiously rounded the hatch. The stairway would only permit one body at a time and the going would be tight; tough to navigate. It was a dangerous funnel right into the mouth of the cabin. They easily could be picked off one by one. Steve knew that and nodded that he'd take lead because they had no choice and couldn't risk the kidnappers barricading themselves and C.J. inside. Using hand signals, he motioned that he would take the center route with the two SWAT team members on his heels. But they'd immediately split up, staying low, one going left and the other right. Lou would bring up the rear, acting as clean up. Without preamble, Steve burst forward, taking the steps three at a time to the sound of alarmed shouts and rifles being primed. Of course, they'd be armed and of course they'd fight back. But he and his team still had the element of surprise on their side.

"Down! _Down_!" He shouted, automatically counting heads and locations. "5-0! Get down ... weapons _down_! Now! You're all under arrest!" Behind him, Lou and the two SWAT members were adding to the orchestrated volume of chaotic noise by shouting demands of their own.

Steve fired when he caught movement off to his left and a flash of dull metal. _Tall, broad shouldered. An adult_ ... armed. Steve's reaction was perfectly timed. He hit the man in the shoulder, spinning him into the bulkhead wall at the same time another weapon was discharged from behind him. For a split second, Steve assumed the shot came from one of his own team, but the bullet hit him in the vest, just below the left shoulder blade. Fired at close range from a high calibre weapon, he was pushed forward like a rag doll. Steve whited out, barely registering the shouts and the continuing volley of weapons being fired inside the closed space as he was flung prone over a coffee table, the wind completely knocked out of him. Unable to even groan, Steve sucked in a thin breath of air and forced his body to roll to the floor. Eyes open and fighting to track the activity in the room from his back, he argued the deep ache which insisted upon settling between his shoulder blades, spreading like a hot brand. He came back to himself in seconds and the first person his eyes landed on were Billy Travers ... that was all he needed and the surge of adrenalin got him back on his feet in a breathless rush.

"Travers! Drop it!" Steve shouted as the man spun to face him, eyes wild. Gun in hand, he pointed it at Steve's head and Steve grinned in delight as he aimed his own weapon directly at Travers face. "Please ... go ahead ... you'll be dead before your finger twitches."

"Steve!" Lou yelled after him as he aimed himself at the felon. "Travers ... you've got nowhere to go. Put the weapon down; get on your knees! It's over!"

"Lou?" Steve asked the unspoken question, never taking his eyes off Travers. He nodded dangerously and with no small amount of conviction at the man when Lou replied the way he'd anticipated.

"It's over," Lou supplied. "He's the last one. There are pictures on the PC here ... they're all of C.J. ... the F.B.I. will be very interested in stepping in to help with this ... _auction_." The older man's tone was full of pure condemnation. Behind him, Steve heard other weapons being readied. His wasn't the only one taking aim at C.J.'s birth father. He also didn't doubt that each of his team's attitudes were close to his own when it came to the filth they were taking off the street.

"Good," Steve breathed out. His eyes glittered at Travers, his look menacing, secretly wondering how far the man would take it and if he'd be willing to essentially commit suicide by cop. Because if he didn't give himself up, that was exactly what would happen. Steve almost wished for it.

"Put the gun down, Travers. Put it down and tell us where you put the boy." He watched Travers fidget, eventually letting the gun hang from a finger before letting it drop to the floor.

"Well, you're just going to have to figure that out, aren't you?" Billy Travers snarled back as he dropped to his knees. "I tell you what ... why don't we all play a little game of hide and seek?"

"We're not going to _play_ anything," Steve whispered thickly. "But I'll tell you that you don't deserve him. You never have. How the hell can you betray your own son like this? He's just a _little_ boy."

"Oh cut the sob story. His mother wanted a kid. I gave her a fucking kid! And then? Hell, she betrayed _me_ ... fucking bitch took off with my money _and_ shit, so I'm entitled to a little payout." As he spoke, Travers voice got louder and more shrill. He struggled back to his feet despite Steve's shouted warnings, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Get down! Back _down_!" Steve spat back dangerously as he surged forward, ignoring the fire in his back and Lou's startled curses. He grabbed Travers by his throat and shoved him backwards, pinning him against a large console. "If there's so much as a paper cut on that boy, you're going to regret the day you were ever born."

"Go to hell. You can't do anything to me." Travers gasped under Steve's clenched fist, having the gall to even shrug. "I give ..."

That arrogance was all it took for Steve to make a fist, his muscles bunching under nothing but a tac-vest. Steve registered the exaggerated groan from behind his shoulder as he tightened the hold he had around the man's throat and cocked his right arm back. Grover's next words would have been almost funny if not for the circumstances.

"Now shit. Why do they always have to do that?" Lou complained to the air. "Egg'ya on and then wonder why ... ow."

The crack of Steve's fist into Travers' jaw once and then twice, effectively interrupted anything else Lou was going to say until he blew out a heavy sigh.

"_That_ ... they wonder why _that_ happens."

"Get this scum out of here," Steve demanded as Travers crashed to the floor. Then he jumped to their next priority. "Where's C.J.? Find the boy."

"Hey ... you got hit...," Lou started to stay and then held his hands up in defeat as Steve glared his way. "Our boy sure has his hands full with you, don't he?" Lou muttered as he watched Steve rip the tac-vest from his body. "Steve, that don't look so good."

"I'm fine," Steve said through gritted teeth as he carefully rotated his shoulder. He could breathe better with the vest now off. He'd also worry about himself later. Much later after he found C.J. He whirled around, ignoring Lou's not so impressed low whistle of sound.

"Lou. Find him ... try the galley. I'm taking the master suite. He may be lower though ... get the men down below ... check the engine room." As he looked around the main cabin, cataloging the volume of damage. He was relieved that C.J. hadn't been there. But where-ever he was on the boat, he was trapped and alone, and probably petrified.

"Find him ... he's here _somewhere_."

**H5O* H50**

C.J. stood up, clinging to a garment bag, his eyes locked on the door. Through the slats, he could see some dark shapes moving on the other side. He was sure the mean lady was back. But maybe the man taking pictures or even his father, too. There was more than one person and he shrank back, trying to hide behind the hanging bag.

The door seemed to shake and tears stung his eyes again. He whimpered in fear. C.J. rubbed at his already stuffed nose with the back of his hand, feeling tired and sick from crying so much. He didn't want to be in the closet, but he didn't want to come out either. He couldn't help feeling scared all over again when the light was suddenly turned on inside. He startled badly when the door shook even harder as someone tried to open it from the outside and then ... chips of wood cracked and splintered ... some falling to the floor of the closet. Eyes huge, C.J. dug the fingers of his good hand into the bag. He tucked his bad wrist to his chest and trembled again when the door was suddenly flung open wide and a large shape blocked the whole doorway.

He stared at the shape and C.J. shook his head in wonder, looking at the bigger than life man who was standing there in front of him. A man who was barefoot and ... wet. He was also holding a big knife and C.J. stopped right there on that knife, drawn to the blade's shine. He watched as the man shoved the knife into something which held it safely down by his ankle. His eyes flickered away from the knife to the man's face and then the two stared at each other, both breathing hard and still looking just a little bit scared.

_"C.J.,"_ Steve's mouth said just as his eyes looked C.J. over from top to bottom until they settled on C.J.'s hurt wrist next. His face looked angry for just a moment before it looked sad and then ... he was on his knees in front of C.J., talking way too fast and making finger-signs as best as he knew how.

_'C.J. I'm here.'_ Steve cupped C.J.'s cheeks and then gently ran his hands over his shoulders._ 'Are you okay?'_ Drops of water dripped from Steve's wet hair as he rocked back on his heels, his expression full of relief as he cupped the side of C.J.'s head, his thumb swiping what was left of C.J.'s tears to the side.

_'My brave boy,'_ his mouth seemed to say and C.J. shook his head. That was wrong because he was so afraid.

_'Steve ...daddy ... bad.'_ He tried to sign with one hand, tears rising to his eyes until Steve gently closed his fingers, taking them away from his forehead. He shook his head to stop the frightened words. His mouth shushed C.J. as he traced over the bruised and swollen fingers and hurt wrist. To C.J., Steve's face looked angry all over again. But then Steve stopped long enough to kiss his cheek and to make another special finger-sign, one which C.J. knew very well.

_'Home. Let's go home.'_

Steve held his arms out wide and C.J. forgot how afraid he was. He forgot how bad his wrist hurt. Instead, he fell into Steve's body, burying his head trustingly into Steve's neck. Holding on tight when he was scooped up high.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	18. Chapter 18

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve carried C.J. above deck practically on a jog. If he was still a bit breathless and if his back was on fire, he chose to try and not notice either. At least for these few minutes. But every step was jarring on his back and breathless was actually _painful_. Nonetheless, Steve considered these minor discomforts now that he had C.J. in his arms. He was more thankful that the child couldn't hear a blessed thing, which made his job easier as he only needed to keep C.J.'s head buried in his shoulder. The boy didn't need to see the bloody streaks or the wood shattered into splinters in the main salon. He also didn't need to hear the chaos which was still taking place. And he absolutely didn't need to see his birth father being dragged away by no less than three or four uniformed officers. Travers was fighting hard and digging in his heels while screaming obscenities. When he saw Steve and his son, Travers only escalated in volume and in his fight, nearly knocking one officer off his feet.

"Get him the hell out of here!" Lou Grover hollered loudly as he kept pace with Steve, one hand on his shoulder as if he might be just a bit nervous for either Steve's well-being or if the younger man might try to turn back towards Travers to finish the job. "Why the hell is that bastard even awake? You sure as hell decked him hard enough," Lou complained.

"Ambulance?" Steve asked because honestly, he only had C.J. on his mind right then. "Where?" He bit back a cough, grimacing at the spam-like ache across his back muscles.

"Second ambulance is up top waiting on you ... Duke allowed them down now that the scene is secure," Lou explained. "Can I take him for you?" He nodded to C.J. asking Steve for permission. He looked at Steve disapprovingly when he shook his head to decline the offer, but didn't say anything. _Yet_. Steve was sure that would be changing though. At least Lou had the decency to change the subject.

"The woman? She's hurt pretty bad. Took a gut-shot so they rushed her outta here fast. Two units are riding shot-gun. The other two, plus Travers are going to straight to the pound. The rest of the team will stay here with the equipment; don't want to risk moving anything before the FBI gets here. That ... so called ... _auction_? It's set to go off soon and maybe; just maybe ... we can corral the rest of these ... _non_-humans. You sure I can't carry him for you?"

"I'm sure. Besides ... ," Steve replied as he slowed just a bit to take a moment to make a new demand prompted by what Lou had just said. "I want you to stay here. Stay here and make sure nothing is tampered with. My god if there's any other kids out there. Lou, I might just be sick. I might just have to... ." He stopped talking, his voice catching in his throat as he pressed a kiss to the top of the boy's head and held him just a little bit closer.

"Trust me, I know," Lou agreed vehemently. He cursed softly under his breath. He still hadn't released the hold he'd been maintaining on Steve's shoulder though. "You first though; _both_ of you. Steve ... seriously ..."

"Lou, I'm fine. I'm good. His wrist ... it could be broken. I don't think it is ... maybe sprained," Steve said. He was talking fast, rambling, but his anger was getting the best of him. In his arms, he felt C.J. clutch more desperately at his back and Steve coughed through an attempt at a deeper inhale. He needed to calm down for C.J.'s sake. The boy was attuned to so much of his other senses. Try as he may, there was no settling of Steve's nerves though.

"His _fingers_ are bruised - like he got dragged," he spat out, giving in to that anger again. "On his _right_ hand ... how the hell is C.J. going to _talk_? I'd love to have that bastard so-called _father_ of his in rendition. Just for five damned minutes."

"Okay, and you ain't the only one. There'd be a queue a mile long waiting for those honors to teach all of these ass-holes a lesson. Multiple times. But as for you being fine? Nope, I beg to differ; _fine_ is not nearly the same as _good _and ... your neither of those things! If you could only see your back right now. I know for a _damned_ fact that you hurt like hell ... and if this is the way to get you checked out, too, then so be it," Lou almost drawled the words with an oily sarcasm.

"I've taken hits before ...," Steve tried to say, but Lou interrupted with a sharp laugh.

"You're breathing funny and don't deny it because I can _hear_ it. One gurney will hold the both of ya; lord knows he won't let go of _you_, either. And right now, I count that as a good thing."

"Lou ...," Steve tried one last time, then stopped knowing that Lou was one hundred percent correct. He coughed again and winced. "Fine ... okay." He grumbled, bothered by the feeling of an odd tightness running like a rubber-band from his back around to his chest. In truth? He felt like crap with every step and needed to get checked out. With C.J. attached to him like a second skin, escorting the boy on the gurney was in fact the best option. Besides, Lou wasn't going to take no for answer. And ... _shit_ ... Steve glanced around like a deer in headlights when he heard an excited shout.

Mitchell Bernfeld was on a run towards them. Waving wildly, a grin from ear to ear, the P.I. looked utterly ecstatic.

"Crap, not now," Steve said under his breath. He aimed himself towards the ambulance. He suddenly felt like fleeing. "Handle him, too," he demanded of Lou before slightly recanting because Bernfeld had given them so much and if he hadn't, then they'd still be running in circles. C.J. would have been halfway off the island. He should be thanking the man and not trying to buy himself more time.

"I mean. Geez, Lou. Without him ... " Steve stammered and then shook his head in frustration, torn by the budding situation which Danny had warned him about. The boy not only had a family, he had a family that had hired a private investigator to track him and his mother down. Purportedly to bring them home.

"Find out about this sister," Steve added. "I want everything on the family."

Bernfeld was a good man and deserved so much more. Except that Steve just couldn't bear to face him just yet. At least not yet with C.J. in his arms. Maybe by the time he got to the hospital and got more information on C.J.'s wrist. And Danny. He was clueless as to his partner's condition. Possibly after getting certain things figured out or put to bed, maybe then he'd be able to face what was to come. He was blatantly lying to himself though - and he knew it because he already was feeling sucker-punched.

"Sit. I see 'em and I know ... I know. No worries. Without him, we wouldn't have this little man and just so you know, I've already got Jerry on the mother of all background checks," Lou stated quickly as they got to the waiting ambulance and Steve was helped inside. Once Steve was seated, Lou switched gears then, throwing out advice and direction to the EMT's as they guided Steve backwards to sit on the gurney.

"You've got two patients right here. This first one? This big one here, well he took a bullet to the vest," Lou quickly explained to the first EMT who gave them a quizzical look. "Nine millimeter round to the back; just off center on the left side. And this little man? This is C.J. We think he's about five or six years old and he's hearing impaired." Lou paused, waiting for all of that information to sink in.

Reassured by Grover's talents, Steve took the time to close his eyes against the pain as he carefully got settled on the gurney, mindful of his back and the boy he was still holding. Lou was invaluable as he took over, allowing Steve the opportunity he needed to then dote on C.J. when the boy took the chance at peeking out to see where he was and what was going on. When Steve looked up again, Lou was already helping to close the rear ambulance doors with a solid thud of his fist, insisting that they leave. Steve never saw Mitchell Bernfeld; with Lou's help, he'd bought more time indeed.

"Hey buddy," Steve crooned softly. He smiled in relief when C.J. looked up at him. The tears had stopped but Steve could literally feel how exhausted the boy was and how much he was beginning to shut down. Yet he rallied for a minute, trying to use both hands to sign something. With his bad wrist in his lap, C.J. made a loose fist and then tapped one index finger to another.

_'Hurt?'_ C.J. signed awkwardly and Steve nodded. He shrugged, hiding his discomfort by adding an easy, happy shaka sign.

"Just a little bit," Steve said out loud as he pinched his index finger and thumb together. C.J. stared at him, his expression hard to read. He was probably not too convinced about that little bit but then he was distracted when the first EMT aimed attention his way. When the medic reached for his wrist, C.J. tucked himself tighter to Steve and shook his head.

"It's all right. Can I check your wrist?" The EMT asked C.J. and then turned to Steve when C.J. shook his head again. "Will he let me examine his wrist and fingers?"

"Yeah," Steve said, wincing as the man's partner began to poke and prod at him now. "Just give me a sec with him ... let me try to explain things."

Having the two of them catered to at the same time was an interesting situation, causing some trouble for C.J. to follow. Steve raised an eyebrow and continued to smile for C.J.'s benefit as a pulse oximeter was placed on his finger ... and the ambulance began to move. Eyes wide and with tears threatening again in the already tear-stained face, Steve carefully shifted the boy more upright on his lap.

"Doctor," Steve both said and signed before he gently braced C.J.'s arm for the EMT. "He needs to look at it." He traced the sore wrist, tapped near his own eye and then pointed to the EMT. "It's okay. He needs to look at your wrist."

"So, what do we think happened?" The EMT asked calmly as he carefully reached out and began to examine C.J.'s wrist and each of his puffy fingers. He gave C.J. a reassuring smile and then waggled his own fingers, silently asking if C.J. could do the same. Heaving in a troubled breath of air, C.J. glanced once at Steve and then copied the medic as best he could.

"He's a great kid," the man said with a kind smile. "That's really good." He tousled C.J.'s hair and then gave him a thumb's up sign. "Fingers are bruised but he can move them well enough. I don't feel anything out of whack with his wrist; an x-ray will set things straight though. I'm going to stabilize his arm just in case. So what do you think happened to him?"

"I think that he probably tried to run. And ...," Steve started and then stopped when the EMT nodded in understanding. They hid their mutual scowls of annoyance as the boy zero'd in on their faces, watching and measuring their reactions. "He's been really brave up until now, but whatever you do will be done with me here and we take it slow, okay? He's scared, hurting and tired."

"Slow it is," the EMT agreed as he demonstrated the small soft splint which he wanted to put on C.J.'s arm. "I'm going to put this on to support his arm and crack an ice pack for him."

All eyes but not moving, C.J. watched as the soft splint was put on his wrist. He relaxed more when the small ice pack followed next, evidently liking the way it felt. The medic smiled soothingly, trying to indicate that would be all C.J. had to put up with for now and finally, the boy gave them all a tentative smile.

"As for you," the second EMT said as he drew Steve's attention his way. He ignored Steve's surprise as he placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. "Vest or not, that slug did some soft tissue damage for sure. You're going to need some more tests when we get to the hospital, too."

"Sure," Steve replied. He pulled a face, resigned to that fact. His back was on fire and he was stifling an urge to cough every so often. But as he peered down into C.J.'s face, he had to smile. With his head propped lazily against his shoulder, the boy was already half-asleep, the fingers of his good hand wrapped loosely within Steve's grasp.

Conor James Gardner. It was a good name. But he was the small son of Marjorie '_Jorie_' Gardner ... and of a man Steve genuinely hated more and more with every passing second.

The little boy had a name and a family who'd been searching desperately for him. He had an aunt named Emily who was also his godmother and apparently willing and more than able to care for him. At least according to one very above-board and highly competent private investigator. This time tomorrow, Emily Gardner would have arrived from the mainland and other discussions - and important decisions - would be well in progress.

Heaving in a sigh and promptly giving in to a hoarse cough, Steve was rocked by a wave of sadness. He rubbed a warm abstract path up and down C.J.'s arm, understanding how lucky they were and yet in part, failing to accept all of it. As they approached the hospital, sirens blaring, Steve simply didn't know how he was going to cope with the prospect of needing to give C.J. up.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	19. Chapter 19

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

From that point on, everything which Steve did, he did strictly for C.J. It was almost embarrassing how well-behaved he was for both the EMT's and the emergency room staff as he remained seated and stayed accepting of the oxygen mask, and general fussing. _Teachable moments_. Danny had mentioned those time and again when it came to his own kids and now Steve _got it_. He needed to show C.J. by example - lead the way. And Steve could do that, right? After all, he was a naturally born leader. His only issue was needing to be cognizant of an intuitive six-year old's perception of things. That, and his own borderline level of patience as he was fussed over.

_Teachable moments_. All of them ... he was surrounded by _examples_ and growing just a little fatigued by the stress. Steve was also extremely glad that he'd asked Lou Grover to stay back at the boat to manage things. If he hadn't, Steve never would have lived down his exemplary behavior. He'd stowed his fidgets and had only gotten up one time in the whole process and that was to change from his marina-dampened cargo pants to a hospital gown in the ER.

Steve McGarrett in a back-less, white hospital gown_._ On any other given day, he'd be AMA by that point or at least arguing bits of his care. However, this was yet another teachable moment while C.J. watched his every move, wide-eyed and uncertain. Fearful of the impressive reddish-black bruise he'd glimpsed on Steve's back.

Then the old gurney had been swapped for a new one, too. Something more like a _bed_ with side rails and since then, C.J. had reclaimed his lap. Needing to balance the frightened child, Steve had continually made a big show of hiding his discomfort and of cooperating with the doctors ... every single step of the way.

_'Doctor',_ Steve tapped out repeatedly every time C.J. seemed on the verge of imploding. _'Doctor ... okay.'_

But as tears filled his eyes again, C.J. shook his head at Steve's simple sign for doctor.

'_No_,' he signed by tapping his index and middle finger to his thumb. '_No_.'

Slowly, with his one good hand, he spelled out Danny's name of all things and Steve made a face; he just couldn't help it. _What was he supposed to say now?_

"Okay," Steve sighed sadly knowing he had to be truthful. Almost everyone in the little boy's short life had either lied to him or pulled him this way and that. As he looked into C.J.'s eyes, Steve vowed to at least be as honest as he could without sharing something which might be too traumatic. Tugging the high-flow oxygen mask from his face, Steve touched his middle finger to his forehead and then to his own stomach. Rather than taking the time to spell out all of Danny's name, Steve signed the letter '_d'._ He followed that up with the same sign he'd learned all too well for '_doctor_', by tapping three fingers to his wrist.

C.J. blinked, surprised and still wasn't sure until Steve gestured around the ER and then pointed to the ceiling. "Danny, is sick. He's upstairs ... in a bed," Steve said out loud while touching his middle finger once more to his forehead and then down to his stomach. He tapped the bed and then plucked at the light blanket they were both wrapped in and then made the letter '_d_' again.

"_Sick_. Danny's here ... with a doctor."

It wasn't at all what C.J. expected and his lip began tremble even more. At a loss, Steve gently wiped a lone tear from the boy's cheek.

"No more crying," Steve whispered softly as he hugged C.J. close. He bent his head down and spoke slowly, making sure C.J. could try and read his lips. "Everything is going to be all right. We can go see Danny later. Okay?"

Reassuring C.J. that he was good and so, so brave, Steve did his level best to put up with the wires, leads and repetitive tests. He wanted to see his partner and was churning with frustration. But no one would ever know as he smiled and coped with the attention being heaped not only on himself, but on C.J. too. In fact, neither his partner nor Lou Grover would find a thing to criticize Steve about at all.

Steve had accepted pain medication and anti-inflammatories. He'd succumbed to blood tests and was even permitting that an IV be run, all the while other staff took care of C.J. working over, on, and around him. These were all _teachable_ moments Steve kept reminding himself as he smiled and encouraged C.J. to be as equally brave.

And they had done it all, too, with Steve's help. The medical staff had managed C.J.'s similar tests, including taking x-rays of the boy's wrist and hand with a portable machine. Finally as every important test and evaluation was put to bed, Steve had almost graciously allowed the staff to drape a light-weight blanket across his shoulders - that same blanket which he pulled more tightly around the now quietly resting - but still very watchful - child.

With such an avid audience, he could only raise an eyebrow when the nurse placed the oxygen mask back where it belonged across his nose and mouth.

"Doc," Steve said calmly as their doctor came back to their small curtained area. The older man was smiling and Steve visibly relaxed which in turn, were cues enough for C.J. to lose some of the wariness in his expression. "What's the news on the x-rays?"

"There's no sign of any breaks," the attending specialist said. He bent over at the waist, his good-natured smile encouraging C.J. to grin back. "It's badly strained though and this young man will need to be in a soft cast for a few days. He'll be just fine with time and rest."

"Thank God for that," Steve said, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask. "That's great news." He tapped C.J.'s hands to show him a happy thumbs-up sign and tugged the oxygen mask up once more to rest on his forehead. He ignored the nurse's soft reprimand because he needed to both say and do his best to sign that C.J.'s wrist was okay.

"It's good ... but you need to wear that, okay?" Steve pointed to a new soft cast which the doctor was holding. He pantomimed putting the cast on his own hand and wrist and then pointed towards C.J.

"Like before," Steve explained and then signed by tapping three fingers to his opposite wrist._ 'Doctor ... to help.'_

C.J. took a moment to digest Steve's awkward explanations and then nodded in agreement before tucking his head comfortably back down to Steve's chest. He didn't move or object as the doctor took his arm and gently fastened the new brace. Instead, he sighed, his eyes dipping as the volume of people in the small curtained-off area began to dwindle. For a stubborn moment though, C.J. fought sleeping at all. His eyes fluttered and then it was as if he thought better of it. He turned into Steve, his arm draped trustingly around his middle, his face buried in his chest. Within seconds, his eyes had closed for good, his breathing calmer than it had been in a very long time. Steve was helpless to hold him closer, kissing the mussed dark head of hair in the process.

"Try to sleep. I'll be here ... you're safe," Steve whispered more to himself than to C.J. because what he was feeling right then was incredibly overwhelming. He took a selfish moment to look down at the boy and to just watch him sleep, astonished by this spike of protectiveness.

"He trusts you," the doctor noted quietly. "Does he have a place to go - when he's released?"

"Does he have a place to go," Steve breathed out the words not as a question, but more as a statement before he nodded, smiling down fondly at the sleeping boy. "Yeah, he does." Steve was pushing the envelope and knew it. Danny's warnings about getting too close, making promises and the potential pain of dealing with blood relatives, rattled around threateningly in his head. But Steve could deal with Bernfeld and this still unknown family later.

"So, he _can_ go home then? And if he can ... then I'll need to as well. When will that be?" Steve asked. "I'll need to take him home. And ... another question. My partner. I need an update on him. Detective Williams? He was brought in earlier this morning with a head injury."

"Yes ... and yes. We can look to coordinate that; keeping in mind that you're care comes first now," the doctor stated with a stern eyebrow in consideration of Steve's suddenly more anxious expression. It was almost as if the man knew his patient had been straddling a fine line of good behavior.

"What did I say about considering yourself quite lucky, Commander? Deep breathing with a few hours of oxygen therapy and pain killers are hardly things you should be griping about. This could have been much worse."

"Sure," Steve said. "But ..."

"_But_? Really, Commander ... you need to get back on your feet first. Especially if you need to care for that child." The doctor scowled and threw his hands up in the air when Steve continued to stare at him. Even if the doctor was right, Steve felt trapped in the hospital. He was accessible; Conor James Gardner was _accessible_ and Steve felt that urge to flee again. He worked hard to quash the feelings because the doctor was indeed correct and besides, he still had no intel on Danny.

"I understand," Steve forced himself to admit. "But then, about Detective Williams?"

"_But_ ... I'll make a call or two to inquire about your partner only - _only_ \- if you heed my orders for the next few hours."

The doctor pointed to the oxygen mask and waited until Steve pulled it from his forehead, placing it back down to where it belonged over his nose and mouth. He managed a smile as the doctor squeezed his ankle under the light weight sheet in mock warning to stay precisely where he was.

"Understood," Steve said with a short laugh which resulted in him wheezing out an uncomfortable - and quite embarrassing - cough. He winced and breathed through a deep, numbing ache while C.J. fidgeted in his sleep, his casted arm thumping lightly around Steve's middle. On impulse, Steve shushed the boy and smiled in defeat. Obviously the doctor had won this round and Steve again made himself relax.

"Good. Thank you. Besides, there's no reason at all for either of you to be moved in the short term," the doctor added. "C.J.'s sleeping. _Finally_ ... let him rest, too. We'll draw the curtain to give you some privacy. Maybe someone can bring you a pair of street clothes before we discharge you?"

"Yeah, I'll make a call or two," Steve said, copying the doctor's own words, finally eliciting a friendly smile from the taciturn man. "Thanks, Doc." He'd forgotten that he'd no change of clothes. A call to any member of his team would easily rectify that problem. But he absolutely needed to know about Danny sooner rather than later.

"As soon as I know something about your partner, I'll bring or send word to you." Steve grinned. The doctor was in-tune with him and practically reading his mind. He'd given Steve no valid reason to budge an inch and Steve audibly sighed. He forced himself to rest his head against the gurney. He was feeling frustrated and torn with his desire to be in two places at once. Inside, his distress over not knowing anything about Danny was eating away at him. There were so many other things though.

He was accessible and out in the open at the ER. Unless Grover had him in tow, Bernfeld lurked close. Emily Gardner was next on the list. But as C.J. rested so trustingly against him, his small body lax as he dozed on, Steve resigned himself that he needed to stay exactly where he was. He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the oxygen as he'd been instructed to earn its healing benefits. He closed his eyes, feeling more than just a little worn out mentally as well as physically. Allowing the pain medication to leech into his sore muscles, Steve smiled to himself as a stray thought teased his mind.

Teachable moments indeed. Who exactly was learning _what_?

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	20. Chapter 20

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes**:_ Jazzie and Phoebe understand how darned difficult this chapter was to get right. My undying thanks to both of you for valuable help. I can't say just how much I appreciate your help every step of the way!_

_Thanks to everyone who has left such sweet reviews. I'm behind in responding to each, but will catch up._

_The next few chapters are under a 'battle of the muses' and will be slower in coming ... _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny felt the mattress dip just a bit. Then a warm, comforting weight settled along his side. A moment later, another centered gently on his chest. He sensed Steve's presence and allowed himself to relax and his brain to cease its tendency to stay in overdrive. He'd been ill and weak for hours, but also carrying a tension he hadn't readily acknowledged. Steve had been gone for a long time and Danny had had no way of knowing where he was ... or why. He'd been missing him and Danny finally quieted his aching mind in order to just let himself drift within a more peaceful state.

_Steve was there._

The warmth on his chest came from a splayed hand and it comforted Danny more than he might have expected.

Cautiously, Danny opened his eyes, testing the waters. His vision was blurry from a migraine, but he easily recognized Steve's profile. The last time he'd tried this though at a nurse's firm insistence, his head had throbbed with a vengeance so severe that he'd needed an emesis basin. It hadn't been a pretty sight and it had been a worse experience. He'd gagged and become even sicker. Wrung out like a damp dish-rag, he'd been left only partly conscious and unable to re-position himself on the bed. Others had come in the room to do that for him. They'd fixed his limbs and kindly re-positioned his upper body, elevating his head just so to his sickly, affirmative grunts. His doctor had even attempted to fill him on his condition. Something which Danny hadn't needed to hear - he knew damned well that he had a concussion. He even could guess he was fairly lucky that he hadn't (yet) lost a tooth. He was only vaguely pleased his jaw wasn't broken even if his tongue felt mangled.

Frankly, he hadn't cared one iota about any of the technical terms. If his doctor had known him better, he'd might not have bothered to say a single thing based on one key fact: Danny had felt so ridiculously ill, that he hadn't even the wherewithal to ask where his partner had been. Those thoughts about Steve had come after, one by one. They'd trickled in to nastily tease at him and only his stubbornness to steady his breathing had permitted Danny's wounded system to acclimate to a place where he swore he wouldn't flat-line if he'd so much as twitched his pinky finger.

"Hey," Danny whispered carefully, humming a tentative welcome while he soaked in the warmth of Steve's hand as it spread across his chest. He blinked in surprise trying to get his vision to sharpen. The warmth along his side was someone he'd least expected.

"C.J.? Why's he'ere?" Danny moved slowly and spoke slower yet. He knew that he was slurring his words, but his mouth and jaw were a mess. He had to argue the near-debilitating pain saying those few syllables of sound brought with them. It made him realize something which had been toying with him just at the fringes of his awareness no matter how still he'd been staying: he didn't have just a migraine. His face felt as if he'd connected with an anvil.

"Hey back at ya; it's good to see you. How are you feeling, huh?" Steve whispered worriedly as his thumb rubbed a warm pattern on Danny's shoulder. "Is he hurting you? He wanted to see you, too ... but, I can take him off the bed ..."

Danny wanted to laugh - or cry - the question was a stupid one. He blinked rapidly as he tried to focus on Steve's face: on the smile which didn't exactly reach Steve's very sad looking eyes. As the achy cogs in his head began to click forward, Danny realized a few more important facts. C.J. shouldn't have been there and in reality, Steve _had_ taken too long to come and see him.

Something bad had happened.

"Whu'hapnd?" Danny slurred as he grimaced uncomfortably at the white and blue blur which was practically under his nose. C.J.'s careful hug across his chest was fine, but the blurred colors attacked his sensitive senses. Danny's stomach wobbled threateningly and he tamped down the first urges to be sick again: the clothes were all wrong on the boy.

"What the hell's he wearing?" _The clothes were entirely wrong._ None of it was how he'd dressed C.J. that morning. But then Danny's frown deepened further as he spied the odd shape on the boy's arm. "Is that a _cast_?"

His mouth didn't want to work right and every single syllable was painful, and still he pushed on. Danny raised a shaky hand just able to lay it on the boy's back where he plucked at the unfamiliar shirt in askance. He ran his hand over the soft-cast, ever more confused when C.J. lifted his arm up, his own small face creased in awe, allowing Danny a better look.

"There was an incident ... and ...," Steve started to say, stopping short when Danny interrupted him.

"An _incident_?" Danny asked. "Did he fall?" What the hell kind of word was that for Steve to use? Confused, he gently traced his thumb over the boy's injured knuckles. Even if he couldn't quite see straight, Danny saw that C.J.'s fingers were puffy and bruised-looking. The boy's wrist was apparently damaged, too, and forgetting his own woes for a moment, Danny glanced from the small arm to Steve's face in askance.

"No, he didn't fall. There was an issue at the Lee's. This thing with you and Bledsoe was a diversion. A damned ugly one," Steve said through a flare of anger which he quickly doused. "Now's not the time to get into it; it's worked out. Put to bed." He swiped one-handed at his face and smiled apologetically, apparently struggling to keep his anger under wraps. "You look like shit and ... enough has gone wrong ... and _right_ ... today. You have no idea."

"A ... a _diversion_? For what... purpose?" Danny mumbled while holding his fingers to the base of his jaw in a vain attempt to quiet the throbbing. He didn't understand and was suddenly more alert than he'd been. However, this sudden spike in adrenaline wasn't doing him any favors. Almost belligerently, Danny forced himself to sit up taller. The room spun and his stomach clenched at the same time he was reminded that his face and the back of his head had connected very painfully with solid, immovable objects.

"_Shit_," Danny cursed softly as he closed his eyes and felt the bed spin underneath him.

"Danny, should you do that?" Steve asked as Danny gave out with a sickly, helpless groan.

"_Pr'b'bly_ not," Danny slurred back as he breathed through the woozy feeling and forced his eyes back open. But this subtle shift in his position showed him something else now, too. He stared at Steve's clothes - or lack thereof - and would have rolled his eyes if he could have. Steve wasn't dressed the same way he'd left the house either and a hospital gown certainly didn't bode well. First C.J. and now his partner? An _issue_ at the Lee's home? The prospects of diversions and casts ... bruises ... and Steve wearing a white hospital gown ... none of these things added up.

"What ... what are you _not wearing_?" Danny demanded to know as he breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose desperate to combat the massive throbbing inside his skull. He was indeed going to be sick ... and soon. "Did you manage to get shot before lunch?"

"Maybe," Steve said under his breath, looking more than just a bit guilty as charged. Danny tried to scowl when Steve pulled the material closer, almost protectively. As best he could, Danny aimed Steve a pointed look demanding that Steve explain himself. He was almost mortified though when C.J. compounded things by making a face of his own and pointed to Steve's chest. He clearly made a gun-like shape with his left hand and Danny blanched.

"Out of the mouths of babes," Danny chided Steve's soft curse even if his trying to speak was beginning to send more and more waves of dizziness through his already pounding head. He felt shaky and pale, but stubbornly ignored it all.

"I, _uh_," Steve started and then stopped before giving him a semi-sickly looking grin. "It was necessary."

"S'cuse me?" Danny asked in surprise. He wanted to laugh but didn't dare. "N-necessary?"

"Danno, I ...," Steve paused to inhale a deeper lungful of air and promptly coughed or choked, Danny couldn't figure out which. With a look colored by fondness and worry, Steve laid his hand on the top of C.J.'s head. He looked into Danny's eyes. "His name is Conor James Gardner." Steve's voice sounded hoarse and his eyes glistened in the dim light of the hospital room. As he tried to digest the implications of this startling revelation, Danny felt the sickening thud inside his head pick up its pace.

Yeah, he was indeed going to be sick again.

"Conor's sixth birthday was three weeks ago and he never had a party or a cake or got a present. He didn't even _know_ about it." Steve coughed heavily then as he spoke, each word sounding more anxious than the one before. By the time he finished, Danny had managed to engage at least part of his brain and if his jaw didn't hurt so much, it would have been hanging open in shock.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Danny barely got it all out around sore lips and a worse tongue. "Conor ... Conor James?" The inside of Danny's cheek felt lacerated, but the outside? He felt a thick swelling which seemed to extend up towards his eye from his chin. Sharp pain leaked across his jawline and into his ear. The migraine thudded on. But all of that paled in comparison to what Steve was really saying about C.J. With a sudden pang of understanding, the clues about diversions and the Lee's - and oddly most frighteningly - the verbalization of C.J.'s full given name, all clicked together.

"The family's here?!" Danny asked a bit more loudly than he'd intended. His head spun for good then and the room faded out to a sparkle of blackish lights, and along with it, Steve's voice dwindled to practically nothing. He gagged and then coughed heavily, the taste sour in his mouth.

"Danny! _Danny_!" Steve blurted as Danny sagged listlessly back, his eyes closing against a severe flux of nausea. "Danny? I'm calling the nurse ..."

"N-no. M'fine," Danny whispered brokenly. "S'okay." He forced his eyes back open and demanded that his stomach stop its churning and twisting of itself into knots. He was sweating and sick, but now he needed to hear more. He held his hand towards C.J. and cupped the boy's cheek despite a shaky hand. He'd scared him, too.

"I'm okay ... it's okay, buddy," Danny tried to soothe C.J. and his partner at the same time.

"No, no you're not _fine_. This is not okay and it's way too much - you're white as a ghost," Steve argued as he bit back a sarcastic sound which was half laugh, half angry curse. He winced and held his breath as if struggling to breathe and then failed to hide a raspy cough.

"Besides you and your condition, I just can't get into it with C.J. here ... I probably should have said no, but he wanted to see you. He _needed_ to see you after what happened today. But ... that damned Bledsoe! I'd like to kill him! Then ... stupid, _fucking_, Billy Travers. I swear to God my list on who I'm gonna kill is just getting longer and longer." Steve's unexpected and very angry rant left him breathless and coughing. He ducked his head low, breathing hard and aiming to get control of himself. When Steve looked up, his eyes were glassy and the coughing fit had waned, but he honestly was no better off than he'd been before.

"It's all right," Danny whispered as he ran his thumb over C.J.'s cheek. "Steve ... be cool." The boy was calmer but uncertain and needed reassurance. Danny could guess how he looked with the bruises and abrasions. But now, Steve's anger was leaking through and C.J.'s eyes were still large.

"I know. Trust me I _know_!" Steve hissed out as he struggled to pocket his temper. He succeeded a moment later, looking outwardly calmer, though his words were just as strong. "Working under Travers' orders, Bledsoe could have killed you. And C.J. ... he's just a _kid_. What Travers had planned for him ...God, Danno, if you only knew the whole of it."

"Travers?" Danny asked the obvious question, noting how C.J. was staring at his partner, his face looking nothing less than stricken. He wasn't sure what he understood at that point. He didn't know what C.J. would do, but as he watched, the child turned towards his partner. Arms out-stretched, he surprisingly asked to be held, which Steve readily did. Using one hand, Steve smiled soothingly as he virtually scooped the boy off the bed to hold him tight.

"I'm sorry. Not now. Not now. We can't talk about this _now_," Steve whispered under his breath as he found Danny's fingers with his free hand and tried to give him a reassuring squeeze. "You need to rest and maybe ... I can call ..."

"No," Danny insisted. "Just quick ... at least tell me ... who's this guy?"

Steve made a face and then nodded. He tucked C.J.'s head to his shoulder, hiding the little boy's eyes so as not to see his lips.

"His birth father," he grunted painfully as C.J. wrapped himself around his upper body. He closed his eyes for a moment to settle his breathing and overcome what seemed to be a flare of pain. "The diversion ... he came for him, Danny. Retribution. Pay-back. Whatever the hell you want to call it. Travers was watching and waiting for an opening. He assaulted Janice Lee ... took C.J. ... and almost got away."

"_Janice_? What!? ... take 'em where? And ... you? _Hurt_?" Danny whispered incredulously. "Doesn't make sense." He failed at controlling his roiling stomach. He wanted to know everything but Danny was going to be sick again and Steve was duly ending their conversation based upon his change in expression. Danny understood that as he swallowed against a sickening rise of sourness thick in his throat. He _was_ pushing too hard and was soon to suffer for it. Plus if Danny was starting to physically fade, the boy's overt sign of fear was equally enough to put an end to the visit.

He could force himself to _think_ though. What was it that Steve was telling him? What was he really saying? Danny wasn't so sick that he couldn't connect the dots to know that all of these clues combined were leading up to something _traumatic._

"You all right?" Danny asked as he searched Steve's face. He didn't like the coughing or the subtle occasional flicker of pain which crossed Steve's face. Danny reached out to wend his fingers through Steve's to tug him closer, his demand clear.

"I'm okay. I promise," Steve whispered back. His smile was soft, genuinely soothing and his temper firmly under wraps. "It's just a little nick. A bruise. Lou's bringing me a change of clothes ... the others got a little ... well, wet." He paused then, tightening the grip he shared on Danny's hand. "I shouldn't be here like this when you're sick - hurting - but so much has happened and in this great big mess ... Danno, the aunt is on her way from the mainland. She's checking out. Jerry's all over that and she's checking out. But we need to talk - you and me. We need to _talk_ because ... because I'm not so sure that I can let him go."

Steve pressed a kiss to the top of C.J.'s head when he took that moment to peer up at him. "You're okay," he whispered to him. He pointed to Danny and smiled, giving him that familiar shaka sign. "Danny's okay, too. Promise." The young face was open and innocent; his trusting expression was all for Steve and he nodded.

"He's a brave boy ... so brave ... and so very, very smart," Steve said slowly so that C.J. could try to understand those words, too.

"He is," Danny agreed quietly, also taking in how the child looked pale and exhausted as he went back to resting his head on Steve's shoulder. Whatever it was that had happened had Steve completely unraveled; his emotions running rampant. C.J. seemed equally on edge and was more clingy than ever before. But at least the fear was gone or at last down to a manageable level.

Danny didn't understand much of what was going on but he didn't really need all of the details just then. He had no way to define the look in Steve's eyes. He didn't understand the full reasons why his partner was wearing hospital white or why a nurse was in the room and hovering so closely. He could guess she'd arrived for him. Some alarm or another must have chimed to alert the medical staff that Danny was struggling. Belatedly, Danny realized that Steve had been his alarm and he'd used the bedside remote to contact the nurse's station despite what he'd said.

"M'fine," Danny tried to object. This time, it was Steve who cut him short.

"Danny. No more. Please ... rest," Steve insisted. "The nurse is here; you look like crap. I shouldn't have come like this."

"No. No, you should've," Danny objected wearily. He'd needed to know and he'd want to know even more of the details when he was feeling better. But now? He was dizzy and nauseous. Painful pulse points in his head and jaw were throbbing with that deadly vengeance once again. Steve was right that he needed medical intervention. Danny couldn't bear the thought of being physically sick again. Not like that much too recent last time and Danny's eyes closed as he willed himself to try and find that calmer state.

"I'm taking him home. I'll get Charlie from school," Steve said as the nurse stepped forward. "The doctors want you to rest now; you _have_ to rest. I have everything well in hand with the other stuff; especially with Lou's help."

Danny grunted in reply, half in annoyance with his sickly feeling and half as acknowledgement for the note of stress he could hear in Steve's voice. That soft tone of desperation was telling and something else finally dawned on him.

Steve was readying himself for a fight and whatever might happen next, Danny would need to brace himself for it. Steve might partly resent his coming to Danny's hospital bed when he was so ill, but in reality, he was asking for Danny's permission. He'd _needed_ to see Danny. He needed his approval. Because ... what had he just said?

"Conor James," Danny sighed softly to himself.

Steve had just said it - that he wasn't so sure that he could let C.J. go. The aunt had been identified. Contacted; she was already on her way. There were people with names now. A little boy who'd missed a birthday he hadn't even known about. Things were about to happen. Some good; some bad. Danny cracked his eyes open, searching Steve's face a moment. He looked at the unnaturally spent child in his partner's arms. C.J. had his arms loosely wrapped around Steve's neck, but he was watching Danny, still looking doubtful. Wanting to be sure that Danny was truly okay, too.

_'C.J.',_ Danny signed to this sweet little boy who hadn't even known about his own birthday. Danny's next inhale was ragged and fraught with emotion. _Steve was right. _ How could they let him go? At a loss of what to do, Danny lifted his thumb. He did his best to smile around the aches and pains in his face, pleased when the little boy finally smiled back, showing that far too elusive dimple in his cheek.

_And then there were five,_ Danny thought to himself. Steve, himself with Grace, Charlie and now ... C.J.

Danny knew what Steve needed to hear and he absolutely agreed. Though, as he'd stated in the past, fighting blood relatives wasn't going to be easy. As he closed his eyes once more, grimacing against the sickly feeling rolling through his body, Danny managed a brief whisper. One that Steve would hear and understand.

"Okay. Yeah." And with just those two soft agreeable sounds, Danny heard Steve's relieved sigh. He felt the warmth of Steve's hand cover his own.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	21. Chapter 21

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_sorry for the delay. Besides this chapter not wanting to tow its line and be "right", RL has been overwhelming of late. The result is not exactly where I thought this chapter might go, so I appreciate your patience! p.s. - it's also very long!_

_My thanks to both Jazzie and Phoebe who helped tirelessly to coax the bunny along. Phoebe's idea in this chapter about C.J.'s reaction to Bernfeld was brilliant. Thank you! Stlll, the ending isn't what either of you actually beta'd. I hope you approve._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

It came to Steve as he was changing into the clothes Lou had found in his go-bag in the bed of his pickup truck. He was using a common public bathroom on the first floor nearest the Emergency Room exit when he realized that C.J. hadn't asked about his mother and being in the hospital would have been the perfect trigger - if not before. But he hadn't even asked _for_ her ... nothing. And even if Steve wanted to take some personal, emotional credit for that, not asking for his mother was big for a little boy.

_Hell_, it was a big deal omission for any scared kid, no matter the age. _Why hadn't he asked?_

"God-damn Travers," he whispered to his reflection, unable to help wondering how a terrible man like Travers ever came to exist in the first place. Or conversely, how a good kid like C.J. could ever be so badly cursed with such a loser of a _father_. Not for the first time that day, Steve had to work hard at stowing his anger. What he'd heard on the boat and then what he'd seen had been the epitome of evil. Then there was what he'd done to Danny and Janice Lee - good people who'd been in the man's way.

They both could have been killed and a child long gone. Residual feelings of anxiety made Steve take a minute to lean against the sink, staring into the mirror deep in thought. He went round robin back to Marjorie Gardner. Her son. Trying to understand why C.J. hadn't asked for her. Someting which didn't add up. The best assumption he could come up with was that Billy Travers, who apparently held no level of depravity, had used Marjorie's death as a way to keep the boy in line. Though it made sense, Steve couldn't be sure and with the stresses of the day, he didn't dare bring up the child's mother by himself.

"Steve you good?" Lou called from outside where he stood minding the boy in question. "I'll pull the truck around so you two don't have to walk so far."

"Yeah. Here," Steve replied as he carefully tugged a clean tee-shirt on over his head and took a measured breath before opening the door. He'd been an exemplary patient right up until the time he'd respectfully declined use of a wheelchair to depart the hospital. A decision which was already proving to be a bit of a mistake. His chest pinged and his back promised a deep ache despite the meds he'd been given. He was sore and fighting his body's preferences to fold in upon itself in order to stand tall. He knew that he could count on being much worse tomorrow, especially without taking any meds as he'd already planned to do. Skipping the muscle relaxants would be a necessary step for him to take though. There simply was too much to do and he needed to stay alert. He also still had no idea when Danny might be released from the hospital and caring for both C.J. and Charlie, alone, was going to be another top priority. Personal trial or not, Steve was going to have to soldier on for his family and be _it_ for the time being.

"Ready to go _home_?" Steve asked and signed the important word. He smiled down at C.J. who nodded, but was too tired to smile back. He'd been quieter since visiting Danny, too. Whether he was happier knowing that Danny was okay or just plain wrung out, Steve wasn't sure. Nonetheless, he was calmly holding Lou Grover's hand. Or rather, C.J.'s hand was practically invisible, swallowed whole, by Lou's bigger one.

"Bernfeld just arrived," Lou informed him and Steve felt his stomach drop. "Delayed the guy as much as we could ... but he's here and aiming to see the boy. Quite frankly, we owe it to him. He's in the building. On the prowl and on his way down here." The older man paused with a kind smile and supportive hand to Steve's shoulder when he failed at hiding that flare of stress.

"I've never seen you like this, man," Lou said soothingly. "It'll be fine. Just get it over with and keep reminding yourself that he's one of the good guys. We'll handle tomorrow - _tomorrow_."

"Sure." Steve bit back a sigh as Lou handed off C.J. to him and then promptly closed his eyes in disbelief, that glimmer of stress once more paying a fleeting visit to his face when he heard his name being called out from down the hallway. Mitchell Bernfeld might be one of the good guys, but Steve still was conflicted in confronting the man. And even though Steve knew the investigator was anxious to see the object of his very desperate searching, here and now, with C.J. in hand, a hospital corridor just didn't feel like the best place.

"Commander? Commander McGarrett?"

"Speak of the devil," Steve muttered sarcastically despite the amused twinkle in Lou's eye. "Thanks for the warning. Your timing is impeccable."

"Hey, I do what I can. Deal with him, find an excuse to keep it short, and I'll get the truck," Lou repeated with a friendly slap to Steve's arm as he started to walk away. "Play nice. I'll be out front."

"I always play nice," Steve insisted as Lou burst out laughing.

"You keep telling yourself that," Lou chuckled as he walked away. "Get this thing over with … we need to figure out things out for tomorrow anyway."

Lou was right and Steve's time was up when it came to evading Mitchell Bernfeld. He had no valid reason to and in fact, he needed to speak to the man. Hand in hand, he and C.J. had almost made it through the hospital's front doors though. They'd almost bought themselves just a tiny bit more time. But almost didn't win a horse race. Maybe if Steve hadn't had to change into street clothes ... but what did it matter? Steve hadn't been fast enough and Bernfeld had caught up with him. And like Lou had pointed out, they owed the private investigator a great deal.

"Commander?" Bernfeld was bursting with pent-up energy as he bore down on Steve, his eyes flicking from Steve to C.J., and back again. "Conor? Can I see him? How's he doing?"

"Yeah, hold on," Steve said, forcing himself to relax and stand down as the P.I. approached. He'd talk with Bernfeld, let him visit with C.J., but he also needed to explain to a very tired six-year old as to why they both needed to entertain yet another person he didn't know.

'_Home_,' C.J. signed awkwardly with his one good hand. Based on his expression, C.J. was worried as Steve awkwardly dropped to one knee, glancing up to this new intruder. His eyes were glassy and he rubbed at his nose. He'd had juice and water, even a small jello cup but he needed so much more in the way of quiet, peace and safety. Needing to see Mitchell Bernfeld – even for few spare seconds - was a requirement he wouldn't understand even if the stranger quite literally had saved him. Steve knew that and he found himself praying that Bernfeld would, too.

'_Home_,' C.J. signed again as he picked up on the private investigator's excitement in the wrong way. He wavered in place, his fingers clenching and unclenching before he leaned into Steve, looking for support. It was tough work to be brave for a little boy who was running on fumes after just a few catnaps.

"_Yes",_' Steve said while nodding and signing the easy word, his fist rocked back and forth before he signed the word home. "_Home_. We'll go _home_. But I need to talk to him for just a minute, okay? He only wants to say hi. He'd like to meet you."

That was a lot to try and share and decipher. Steve was stuck saying the large majority of words out loud, speaking slowly, while pointing to Bernfeld and smiling. Then he stood to shake hands with the man, attempting to appear normal and not as stressed as he was already feeling.

"I, _uh_ ... how's your partner doing?" Bernfeld managed to ask even though he could scarcely take his eyes off C.J.'s face. "God, he got so big in a few months," the man whispered softly. He glanced to Steve apologetically, before trying again to have somewhat of a normal conversation. A nearly impossible task to skirt around what - or who - he was really there for.

"I'm sorry. So, Detective Williams? He's ... all right? I heard that there was some kind of orchestrated diversion? Travers tried to cover all his bases and take advantage of the time he'd have once you heard about the attack made on your partner. He must have paid that guy a pretty penny to get it done. But then there's the foster mother ... Mrs. Lee?" Bernfeld continued. "I was told she'd been badly injured."

Steve made a face, reflexively tucking C.J.'s head to his thigh. "Yeah, I was informed that Mrs. Lee was attacked in her kitchen," Steve said. "Travers came in through the lanai. Took her by surprise and choked her out ... she has serious injuries to her throat and neck. After, there was no one to stop him at that point."

Bernfeld winced sympathetically at the news. "He's a real bastard that one," he muttered under his breath. "And your partner?"

"Concussion... bruised up; he has one hell of a headache," Steve offered. "He has to stay the night for observation, but he'll be fine with time."

"Good, that's good at least," the investigator added before he couldn't wait any longer. He beamed down at C.J., his eagerness making him practically vibrate. "May I?" He asked Steve, grinning widely when Steve nodded in approval.

"Sure ... he's tired and not too trusting," Steve noted softly. "So don't expect too much. I'd like to get him out of here."

"Hi, Conor. I'm Mitch," Bernfeld said kindly to C.J. as he crouched down, quickly falling to one knee. "Mitch." He said again as he tapped his chest and the pointed to C.J. "I'm Mitch … and you're Conor. I've been looking for you for a very long time."

Steve swallowed hard at the man's words. True indeed, but they did nothing to settle the pang of resentment he felt inside his chest. He needed to say something and took refuge in the boy's uncertainty as C.J. leaned even more heavily into his leg.

"No. No. This is C.J.," Steve both signed and said for C.J.'s sake as a look of utter bewilderment crossed the young face. "Don't call him Conor. He's ... forgotten. Make a 'c' and a 'j' like this," he explained to Bernfeld. "It's what he knows. It's what he goes by. Call him C.J."

"Yeah, okay. You got it," the P.I. whispered, copying Steve to finger-sign the two letters. "Okay ... hi, C.J." Bernfeld corrected himself. He was smiling from ear to ear and emotionally taken aback by finally seeing C.J. face to face. And Steve could hardly blame him even if the youngster was still firmly attached to his leg and refusing to smile. Steve buried a sigh about that. He should be more amenable to the short visit; they'd be dealing with Mitch Bernfeld for the foreseeable future, as well as getting to know the family. Setting a poor example wouldn't be helpful in the long run. So as C.J. looked up at him in askance, Steve did smile comfortingly. He tried to soften the visit by coaxing the boy into at least saying hello.

"This is Mitch. Can you say hi to him?" Steve explained and asked while signing each letter of the man's name. C.J. watched his fingers and then stayed right where he was, not really caring or wanting to say hello, and Steve had to smile in sympathy. In his typical fashion, C.J. had had enough and wasn't interested in signing a single word back, though he likely understood the simplicity of what Steve had asked.

"It's okay, buddy," Steve whispered as he bent down to plant a kiss to the top off C.J's head. "Two minutes and then we'll go home," he added with a pointed look aimed at Bernfeld, relieved when the investigator didn't argue or complain. Steve continued to do his damnedest to be patient, reminding himself to play as nicely as possible. But, biting back a fatigued groan of his own as his back chose that moment to seize, Steve had to admit that he wasn't feeling great himself. He was anxious to get to familiar territory. To escape prying eyes and get some perspective back on what they'd have to deal with next: that critical moment when Emily Gardner arrived. There was a lot to consider and to coordinate, yet Steve needed at least a few hours to regroup and gather his strength.

"So, Bernfeld ... about tomorrow and the sister arriving ... we need to set some things up in advance ... set some expectations ..., " Steve started to say to hasten the close of this first visit with an idea to offer a more formal discussion by phone later that very day. The suggestion would have made sense but then, Bernfeld did the worst thing possible. Still balanced on one knee, just a few inches from where C.J. was standing against Steve's leg, his move was purely accidental. It's intention well-meant.

"Conor's grandmother ... she asked if we could send a picture?" Bernfeld interrupted as he pulled his cell phone out from a pocket. "They're so happy ... so relieved ... you have no idea." He was distracted; still excited about being so close to the boy he'd been hired to find. His eyes were alight with emotion and he clearly didn't mean anything by his next act. C.J. however, reacted violently as soon as he spied the phone.

He struck out wildly, casted arm and all. Breathing hard, eyes wide, he literally smacked the device out of Bernfeld's grip. One moment the man was holding his cell phone out to take a picture and the next, it was clattering to the floor and skidding up against the corridor wall.

Steve started in surprise as the boy turned into his legs, grabbing for him and hiding his face. He was acting as if he was downright terrified - and quite frankly, he was.

"What's wrong ..._ oh my god_ ..." Steve's voice petered out and then gained strength again when he saw the phone just as it reached the base of the wall. Everything had happened so fast, he hadn't followed along and now the man's cell phone, spider-ed screen and all, lay partly broken on the floor. Only then did Steve truly realize what Bernfeld had _said. _Then - what he'd intended to do.

"No, _nonono_ ..." he whispered as he fell back down to gather the desperate child into his arms. "You're okay, buddy ... it was a mistake. Just a mistake."

For less than a hairsbreadth of time, C.J. kicked out him, a fist balled up to thud helplessly against his shoulder. Steve winced as his chest objected not only his own movements, but C.J.'s brief struggle which soon left him limp and heavy in the protective circle of Steve's arms. Not for the first time that day, Steve wanted to find Travers just to pound him through the nearest wall. His own Rendition room would be perfect, but any wall would do. It was unfathomable to him how anyone could hurt a child, least of all their own. _Least of all_ the precious little one whom he held in his arms.

"I got you," he soothed repeatedly as he ran through a series of very satisfying scenarios in his mind's eye. All of which left Billy Travers grotesquely disemboweled. Regardless, if he couldn't fulfill these sadistic fantasies, once this _case_ progressed through the system, Steve had every intention of pulling strings and burying the felon under a mountain of woe. If he couldn't have the death penalty, Steve was damned committed to having the Travers sentenced to life imprisonment: his little joy-ride would come to an inglorious end.

"It's all right," Steve whispered as he digested the remnants of a tantrum that was frighteningly understandable. "It was a mistake … you're okay. He didn't mean it. I got you, buddy ... I got you."

"Commander?" Bernfeld's face was drawn, his expression stricken. He raised his hand in wont of tenderly touching C.J.'s back and then changed his mind. He didn't know where to put himself or what to say as Steve ran his fingers through the child's thick dark hair that was just a bit too long, murmuring reassurances.

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked the hapless private investigator. He automatically murmured a nonsensical sound when C.J. squirmed in his arms, stopping only when small legs found weak purchase around his waist. C.J.'s body felt over-heated, far too warm and Steve grimaced.

It was time to go and he cupped the small head to his shoulder, determined more than ever to leave the building. Uninterested in waiting for an answer from Bernfeld, Steve started to walk towards the exit. Whether he knew what he'd just done – or not - Bernfeld's explanation wouldn't matter. Not at all because more damage had been done and Steve was simply sick at heart by the ongoing stress. What mattered now was getting the child home, to safer grounds. To a place he knew and most of all, to a place where he'd asked if he could_ please go,_ time and again.

"Commander?" Bernfeld asked. "I ..."

"He's had more than enough. I'm taking him home," Steve informed Bernfeld without a backwards glance. "We'll talk later … about tomorrow … the details of when and how this reunion will take place."

"But? But … _I _… w-what did I do? I … I d-don't understand …" the man stammered and then was forced to back up as Steve literally walked through him, his goal obvious. So he hadn't known, Steve dismally registered as Bernfeld stammered on inanely. Steve felt the smallest glimmer of empathy. Mitchell Bernfeld was one of the good guys. Like Lou had reminded him time again, Steve needed to play nice and really … just take a deep breath. He was having a terrible time getting to that place inside his head though.

"Forget about it," Steve muttered under his breath. He kissed the side of C.J.'s head as he held him close and kept walking. He wished Danny was there to offer a buffer or find some way to better defuse the situation. Bernfeld meant well. They sure as hell wouldn't have gotten this far without the man's help. While Steve ached to pound someone through a wall in frustration, Mitchell Bernfeld would not be the right choice.

"I didn't know ...," the man said, sounding broken as he kept pace by Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry ... I didn't know."

Steve scowled. The P.I. hadn't known _exactly_ what the boy's birth father had done to him in the main salon of the boat. While he'd known about this god-forsaken auction and Travers' intentions, Bernfeld didn't yet know the intricacies or the details around the event. He didn't know about the photographs or the computer. He probably didn't even know about the boy's ridiculous clothing or that he'd been locked inside a closet while plans were being made for a sale … first stop, _Bangkok_. Steve didn't want to consider _where_ the precious charge in his arms might have wound up after that. And, with who.

"Please ... what just happened?" Bernfeld pressed and Steve forced himself to take as deep breath as he could. He'd hurt his ailing chest and injured back all over again. Picking the boy up and carrying him had been frowned upon by his doctor. Not only had he done both, Steve had moved quickly and without thought for himself. He was hurting now and his breathing might have held a note of stress. Nevertheless, Steve pushed it aside. He willed his brain and emotions to settle, just a bit. As C.J. clung more loosely to his shoulders, Steve found the wherewithal to give Bernfeld the explanation he needed as he made a beeline for his pickup truck. Utterly relieved to see Lou Grover standing resolute by its front bumper.

"Travers happened," Steve stated bluntly. "These aren't even C.J.'s clothes. He ... Travers ... he'd taken _pictures._ I know that you know what I'm saying ... you brought us the intel about the damned sale! _Think_ ... what did they just subject him to? The FBI has been called in for the computer equipment which was also on the boat. They're tracking IP addresses ... downloading the conversations, the pictures ... everything they can ... collecting evidence."

"Shit." Bernfeld scrubbed his face, looking as if he might cry for an entirely new reason as what Steve meant dawned on him. "I'm stupid ... so, so stupid. I wasn't thinking." As they stopped by the truck, Lou already opening the passenger door for Steve, only then did Bernfeld dare to run a small circle on C.J.'s back, appalled by how he'd spurred on the child's reaction.

"I'm sorry ... please ... tell him that?"

"Things okay with you boys?" Lou asked as he astutely measured Steve from top to bottom. His expression said he didn't like what he saw. However, Steve didn't even nod to acknowledge either question. That might have meant almost nothing to Mitchell Bernfeld, but his silence spoke volumes to Lou Grover. Lips set firm, Steve let Lou help him up into his truck, making sure that the child was comfortable on his lap.

"Commander ..." Bernfeld's final plea cut through some of his resolve though.

"Hold on," Steve said to Lou. Hiding the pain he was in and preventing Lou from closing the door with his hand, Steve forced his voice to remain low. He managed to remain at least outwardly calm as he addressed the investigator over Lou's head. Once again though, Lou wasn't falling for Steve's sham. Based on his concerned expression, the older man was clearly displeased about the conclusion he was drawing and at that point, he wanted to leave the hospital as much as Steve. Nonetheless, it was Lou who had demanded that Steve be the one to play nice and so, he drew in a steadying breath to throw a token gesture.

"Bernfeld? I appreciate what you did today. Without your help and your intel, there's no way we'd be having this conversation," Steve said. "But, right now, I need to get him home. C.J. comes first … you, me … this sister, Emily Gardner … we're all dead last. You got that?"

Eyebrows raised but holding his tongue, Lou turned to face Mitchell Bernfeld, the sheer breadth of his body enough to add import to Steve's words. When Bernfeld merely nodded in reply, Lou clicked the passenger door closed. Once more buffered from the man, Steve sank wearily back into the seat. Intent only on C.J. as the comforting silence of his truck blocked out the rest of the world, Steve gently carded his fingers through the boy's hair.

"Everything's going to be okay," he whispered that promise to himself while staring blindly ahead and considering another new learning Bernfeld had inadvertently just shared. The existence of a grandmother ... more family ... more blood relatives to contend with.

He looked down though as C.J. moved in his arms, worried as the boy pushed off his upper body until he saw why. Using his bad hand to awkwardly grab for something stuck in the truck's center console, C.J.'s face might have been very serious in his quest, but Steve wound up grinning. He hadn't noticed a damned thing inside the truck, apparently though, C.J. had opened his eyes to check things out. The boy had spied something very important and taken the initiatve to take it back.

"Thank you, Lou," Steve said into the air as C.J. leaned back far enough on Steve's lap to get a better hold on his Captain America action figure. He looked at Steve for a minute, long enough for Steve to plant a relieved kiss on his forehead. The two regarded each other a bit longer and finally, C.J. smiled. He leaned forward, the toy stuck between them only to kiss Steve on the cheek.

'_Home_?' C.J. signed and Steve nodded, his grin lop-sided as he voiced the same.

"You bet, buddy ... we're going home."

**_~ to be continued ~_**


	22. Chapter 22

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note:**_ I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday. :-) Happy "celebrations"!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny kept his eyes closed as Jerry droned on, catching an important word here and there. Keeping his eyes closed though was an act brought on by the pure need for self-preservation.

"They might not ever have been as wealthy as the Rockefellers ... who's ever been that wealthy, right? Or even the Crawfords, well maybe them, but the Gardner clan traces back to the 1800's in Ohio. They even had a mansion on Millionaires Row in Cleveland ... aviation and automobiles ... old money ..."

Danny caught the gist of what Jerry was saying. Comfortable was one thing, but C.J.'s family were near the top of the spectrum. It was probably why this Travers guy had targeted one of the daughters in the first place. The '_bad_' daughter ... the impressionable one who played with fire. Danny bit back a groan as they rolled to a stop. He dared to peek out to gauge where they were. Ten minutes away. He could do ten minutes. He grimaced though and closed his eyes again as the light turned green. He was hurting and feeling sick no matter the care Jerry was taking with every bump, turn and traffic light. Danny should have been in a hospital bed where stronger medicines might have been pumped into his system. He was vertical far too soon, definitely for too long, and beginning to pay for it as his stomach lurched with the car over a small pothole in the road. He should have been in the hospital, but he needed to get home.

"Sorry," Jerry apologized. "Almost there."

"M'good," Danny breathed out softly. He'd been sure that Jerry had been glancing his way every few seconds. He thought he could feel the eyes on him, and the apology only validated the fact.

"You want to hear more ... or no?" Jerry asked. "I haven't had a chance to tell Steve or even Lou all of this. They know some ... but not all of it."

Not wanting to talk per se, Danny grunted an affirmative noise for Jerry to continue. He needed to hear it all even if Jerry was worried about him; he was a worrier by nature though. The man constantly fretted about his ability to be of help to any single member of their team. He shouldn't have been concerned this time though - Jerry had been very diligent. Lou had tasked him with scrounging up intel on the Gardners and he'd done just that. Shuttling Danny home to Steve, not only unannounced, but against doctors orders, was another huge deal to him. Jerry was practically bursting at the seams to be of service by bringing Danny, as well as the rest of the team, up-to-speed about the Gardners.

"Okay. So, they've been looking for C.J. for more than fifteen months ... really, closer to eighteen. And his birthday; he missed his birthday. We know that he's six years old now. But he's _six_! No little kid should miss a birthday - the party, cake. The _presents_! It's just not right."

Danny's lips twitched upwards at Jerry's righteous indignation. It was indeed sad though and Danny had a fleeting hope of correcting this wrong for C.J. as soon as they worked things out.

"Man, I bet this Emily Gardner makes up for it," Jerry said next and Danny blinked his eyes open. "Kid's damned lucky if this looks as good as what I've been finding out."

"You sure 'bout all this?" Danny asked softly. He tried to ignore some of Jerry's words and long-winded explanations interspersed with opinion. In his mind, Danny tried to soften just how convinced the other man was about the truth behind his very own findings. But Jerry's excitement had made Danny listen and now it was frightening to realize just how much Danny's heart was beginning to ache in sympathetic beat with his head. His question was painfully rhetorical, too, and Jerry proved that with a short laugh. An innocent laugh which not only indicated that Jerry was positive about his findings, but that he was clueless to just how much this news would be hurting a few people. Where Jerry continued to be almost gleeful about the volume of intel he'd identified, Danny felt completely drained of life.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jerry said as he drove towards Steve's house. "The Gardners are a wealthy family ... rich. I got all the background on the mother. Where she and her twin sister were born, the boarding schools they both attended ... the parties ... the drugs Marjorie eventually started to dabble with ... even how she met that freaking loser, Billy Travers after she got sprung from rehab. Her full name is ... _was_ ... Marjorie Dawn Gardner. Her sister Emily Summer is her fraternal twin. Apparently their parents had a bit of free-spirited hippie in them with middle names like that! But Marjorie? Well, I guess every family has its black sheep and Majorie was _it_ for them. They called her _Jorie_ for short - C.J.'s mother. She liked bad boys ... worse parties ... and had a fling with Travers - a real bad deal. The end result was Conor James. Of course, you know all about that part of it now though."

Danny stayed quiet as Jerry took a deep breath. "So anyway, Marjorie got pregnant and kept the kid. She probably thought Travers would settle down. Maybe she thought they'd play house together but he was only after her money. Regardless, she kept the kid with her family's blessings. And why not, right? It's not like they couldn't _afford_ to keep or get the very best medical care for him. When his disability was discovered, they took him to specialist after specialist. Every indication is that they embraced the little guy."

"Great," Danny muttered under his breath, meaning the exact opposite. There was nothing at all great about what he was being told. Jerry's news was killing him, but it was going to devastate Steve even more. C.J. had a _real_ family. And near as Jerry could determine, a damned fine one. Based on Jerry's intel, their intrusive poking was already feeling unfair for the Gardners, and for both Steve and Danny, what would soon become an exercise in futility. He and Steve had been deluding themselves but of no fault of their own because the little boy was an endearing, sweet child. C.J. had made it easy to want to protect and love him. So they - but more so Steve - had fallen into an easy pattern of parenting and subsequently convincing themselves that they might foster with the intent of a permanent adoption.

"Emily Gardner runs part of the family business now. It's a global tech firm; they move big data ... and she's not only Conor's godmother," Jerry continued on.

"Whaddaya mean?" Danny asked, wincing around the syllables. With his mouth and cheek so badly swollen, he'd be slurring his words for days yet to come. He didn't like the way Jerry let that last comment dangle though. It was telling and Jerry apparently was fishing to be prompted. More shoes were about to drop and Danny wasn't disappointed when Jerry dove back in.

"Get this. She petitioned the courts and won full guardianship of Conor two weeks before her sister essentially kidnapped her son back. With the drug problem ... being in and out of rehab ... and Travers back in her life, Jorie spiraled out of control. Emily took her twin sister on and got Jorie deemed unfit by the courts ... incapable of caring for her son. She got the court to take away Billy Travers' parental rights. Emily was granted full and formal guardianship of her nephew. No holds barred. Since they disappeared with Travers, Emily Gardner and her parents have been very vested in tracking them down. Mitchell Bernfeld is the best of the best and Emily Gardner has quite literally spared no expense over the last year and then some. Have you met him? Bernfeld?"

"No," Danny murmured as he tried to digest everything which Jerry was throwing at him. Feeling sick, he fidgeted in his seat and wondered about Mitchell Bernfeld. He hadn't met the private investigator and what did it matter at this point? His loose plans with Steve over C.J. were over; over before they'd really ever begun. Once Jerry had started to dig deeper and uncovered more information -_ good information_ \- new doubts were running amok.

_What the hell was going to happen next?_

The answer to that was really very easy: Conor James Gardner would be immediately remanded back to his family and legal guardian. Of course, that would be the right thing to do. At least in theory, as the last dregs of Danny's private hopes about growing his small family evaporated away. For the briefest of moments Danny wondered if he and Steve could really stand a chance in a fight against the Gardners. But as quickly as the thought entered his mind, was as quickly as it fled him because -_ what right would they ever have at all?_

"We're here," Jerry announced. "Do you need help?"

Danny moaned softly to himself at the prospect of getting out of Jerry's car. Somewhere along the line he'd closed his eyes again and hadn't even realized that they'd stopped moving. He felt sicker than ever before and reasoning with himself that he'd merely been punched once, did no good at all. Unraveling his aching body from the car and attempting to stand was going to be a problem and Danny wasn't at all sure he could do it.

"Yeah, Jer, give me a hand," Danny found himself needing to admit, unsurprised by Jerry's fast and very pleased response.

"You got it." There was a scuffling sound as Jerry moved far too quickly for his ample girth. Danny winced as the driver's side door opened and accidentally slammed shut.

"Shit," Danny moaned into the side of his hand as he swallowed back a surge of bile. That momentary vacuum inside the car as Jerry opened and closed the door, sucked what was left of Danny's reserves from him. He broke into a sweat and forced himself to move as Jerry reached the passenger side though. And a miraculous moment later, Danny found himself standing in the driveway, albeit still battling his stomach. He was not going to puke right there in the flowering Bougainvillea which lined the path to the front door. And definitely not in front of Jerry Ortega or Lou Grover. It was bad enough that he'd done a dismally poor job at dressing himself at the hospital. He'd gotten dressed with a painstaking slowness brought on by care to avoid making the throb in his head any more debilitating than it already was. The worst part would have been dealing with his shoes so he'd played it safe there too, opting instead to go the hospital's own nubby-bottomed socks, no matter how ugly they looked.

"Hey, Lou," he said as softly as humanly possible. The subtle vibration of the two words made his head throb and rasped at his already dry throat. He swallowed thickly and coughed as a bitter taste took away the little bit of breath he had, threatening to become something much worse.

"What are you doing here? Frankly, I expected you at the butt crack of dawn but not now ... not this early. Not this soon," Lou said. "Should you be here?" He shook his head, guessing the right answer when Danny didn't reply. "Jerry. How are you this fine evening?" He asked, changing gears and then places with Jerry.

"Good to be here," Jerry hastily said. "Glad to help ... even if the doctor didn't seem to think this was a great choice."

"T.M.I, Jerry," Danny whispered as he took Lou's arm. His balance was as off as the disorienting pain inside his head. He felt like he might just curl up right there and die, but he'd survived the car drive home and he wasn't going to give up now. If anything, after Jerry Ortega's eye-opening revelations, he needed to be with Steve even more.

"Danny?" Lou said as his name more like a warning than a question.

"M'fine," Danny insisted.

"You can barely speak, man," Lou complained. "You're barely able to stand ... when Jerry called about you coming home ... I didn't believe it ..."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it before," Danny interrupted him. "I'm fine, Lou. I'm okay. I'll manage." And it was true. He'd been schooled about the intelligence of his decision since telling his doctor he'd needed to leave his hosptial bed that very night due to an important case. First Danny had dealt with a medical gauntlet and then with Jerry Ortega, who meant well but had no right to opinion in Danny's mind. Now he was faced with an ex-SWAT Captain, an older man who never backed down and always stated his mind with a deeply sarcastic note.

"Uh huh," Grover said, clearly unconvinced. "I've heard all of _that_ before, too. From an over six foot tall loon who's just as obstinate. He's fine, too. He's gonna be just able to manage without his pain meds, too! Freakin' broken records, the two of ya! Peas and pods." His tone stayed laced with sarcasm just as Danny had expected. Then it only got worse as they slowly made their way to the front door. Lou Grover wasn't done yet though. Not by a long shot.

"The doctor is probably right about this you know," Lou added. "It's the reason why he has a formal college degree or two. Usually people visit 'em for their wise advice. People pay lots of money to see these trained professionals. Their opinions mean something, Danny. You know that. Leaving against doctor's orders isn't like you at all and quite frankly, you look like shit, man. As bad as Steve does."

"What's that mean?" Danny slurred. He stopped walking to motion half-heartedly at Lou. "Is this why you're here?"

"_Why_ am I here he asks. _Because_ I can smell a crash about to happen a mile away," Lou scoffed. "He didn't ask, but he needed help … he's worried to shit and back about you. Charlie needed minding. Then, let's add in Bernfeld, C.J.'s family, and how this is all going to pan out tomorrow … oh! Dare I forget to mention that he got shot this morning at point blank range? He's a stubborn bastard but the body can take just so much."

"No kidding," Danny said. He hung his head, eyes closing for a moment before looking back up. "Where's he at?"

"Barely on his feet," Lou noted dryly. "Like you. He's out on the lanai when he should be flat out on his back. Resting. Taking his meds. Again … much like you _should_ be. In fact, who the hell let you out of the hospital?"

Danny didn't respond to any of his comments, leaving Lou to roll his eyes towards the darkening sky. "Heaven help me. I'm surrounded …"

"Uh, huh," Danny said, mimicking Lou's earlier tone. "I guess you are. I need to be here, Lou. 'Specially cause of this Bernfeld guy and C.J.'s family. Tell me ... how are the boys?"

"C.J.'s out like a light with Captain America," Lou chuckled as they shuffled along together. "But Charlie's apparently like his 'ol man. He's fighting sleep. Doesn't think I know it … but I see that flashlight of his under his covers."

Danny relaxed a bit, content in that at least some things hadn't changed. Charlie under the covers with a book or some toy, pushing his luck with a flashlight, made him feel oddly at peace. And after the terrifying day he'd had, C.J. deserved a good night's sleep.

"M'here," Danny said. "You can g'home ... see that nice wife of yours."

"Yeah I guess I could at that," Lou agreed. "You being here and all _against_ doctor's orders. I could leave - sure I could. Sometimes though I'm surrounded by village idiots. So, I tell ya what. I'll help you inside, you can surprise Steve ... let him know you're home. Me though? I think I'll take a nice stroll around the block. It's a lovely enough evening and I think that nice walk will take me about a decent hour or so."

"But you'll be back," Danny finished for him.

"In all seriousness, you both need help," Lou declared as he gently swung the door open for Danny to enter the house. He stayed on the front step though. "So yeah, I'll be back ... Uncle Lou will be riding herd on this little family of _ours_."

He eyed Danny closely and sighed, shaking his head in frustration. "You can barely move; Steve ... can barely move! You've got two energetic boys to deal with; school for one in the morning ... and god knows what we're going to have to manage with the other one tomorrow. Emotions are high. So, yeah, Danny ... I'm staying. That there sofa has my name on it."

Danny had to smile, painful as it was.

"Can you manage?" Lou paused, one foot still on the landing.

Danny nodded, indicating that he could at least make the lanai by quietly closing the front door. Then he slowly made his way through the house, his eyes focused on the dark silhouette. Weary, beaten down and in considerable pain based on his stance, Steve was standing there alone. Facing the water, his shoulders looked heavy and he was badly hunched over. Believing there was no one to see him, his guard was completely down. For a split second, Danny stood in the doorway fighting a surge of raw emotion. He had to tell Steve everything which Jerry had just relayed, no doubt about it. But he just didn't know how to do it. Uncertain, Danny backed a half-step away to stay shadowed inside the house and scrubbed hard at his face.

_How the hell was he going to do this? _

He was searching for words when Steve turned evidently sensing that he was being watched. His eyes widened and then his shoulders were automatically straightening, the fatigue vanishing.

"Danny," Steve breathed out.

"Hey," Danny whispered making it to Steve's side, his arm sliding around Steve's waist before he had a chance to move. "I left ... I had to be here."

"Danny?" Steve's eyes were luminous in the dimming half-light of the sunset as he looked down into his face. "What the hell are you doing here?" Where Lou's tone had been full of reproach, Steve's was incredulous. But then Steve was turning, lightly brushing his fingers over his bruised cheek before gently gathering Danny in as if he were spun glass, his relief evident by the way he murmured his name.

"You're not going to yell at me, too?" Danny joked lightly as Steve pulled him in, gathering him to his chest, dwarfing him instantly.

"No," Steve whispered, his voice tight and then muffled as he buried his face in the side of Danny's neck. "No, Danno." His voice broke as Danny carefully wrapped his arms around him, too. "N-no, I'm not going to yell at you at all. Not at all."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	23. Chapter 23

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note:**_ So, this WAS 6 chapters originally. What the heck happened?_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"What are you doing?" Steve complained as Danny broke their short embrace. He started to ruck up Steve's tee-shirt, a move which turned into said tee-shirt being entirely removed, tossed to the ground and Steve getting manhandled around. "What the hell, Danny!? Stop it!"

"No. Turn. Lemme see ...," Danny demanded. "_Shit_." Despite how sickly he was feeling, he pushed and pulled until he got Steve where he wanted him. Then he stopped to stare at the deep bruising on Steve's back. "Son-uva-bitch, that's bad," he said. Falling under the shoulder blade, it blossomed darkly, looking even worse as dusk settled.

"Calm down. It's just _bruised_," Steve tried to object but Danny shushed the words away. Using his finger tips, Danny lightly traced its outline, eliciting a soft hiss of pain from his usually tenacious partner. Steve literally cringed away from him and Danny had barely touched his skin.

"No, you don't get to say that," he whispered. "Too much shit went down today. We need to talk. How're you doing?"

"Yeah, we do," Steve replied. "We need to talk." He turned back towards Danny, his face drawn. "Emily Gardner arrives tomorrow. I've decided to hold the reunion here; familiar ground. Bernfeld knows and is game. He'll bring Gardner here ... and I've got Angela Marcos, too. But Danny, we've got to tell C.J. We've got to prepare him ... this might not be a good surprise. The timing ... I wish we had more time in general between his mother and this shit-show with his damned father. And now some aunt that we're supposed to just welcome with open arms?"

"What?" Jerry's words were fresh, too, and Danny palmed an ache on the side of his temple. "Jerry. He, _uh_ ...," he started to say and then paused.

_What had he wanted to say?_

He'd been worried about Steve and hidden injuries. Of course, C.J. and his wrist. But Steve had effectively just changed the subject - again -and Danny got diverted with hearing that the meet would be at the house ... tomorrow. Bernfeld and Emily Gardner would be there, at the _house_. It made sense for any number of reasons. The information even complimented what Danny had been told by Jerry Ortega; in fact, everything which Jerry had shared was good and yet ... so bad. His head was throbbing with a vengeance and he was just shy of needing to lay down. He wanted to hear more about this Bernfeld character and get an update on Billy Travers, but his mind was racing with where to start first.

"Steve? Are you okay?" Danny asked as he fought to get back to his original, first question. "Lou said ... and just now ..."

"I'm fine," Steve interrupted him, a faint smile on his lips. "Tired ... just tired, Danny. Worried about tomorrow and how C.J. is going to react. Then, what happens after." He reached out to gently bring Danny to his chest where Danny found himself resting his forehead. "And I'm worried to death about you, too. I can't believe you checked yourself out of the hospital. What the hell do you think you're doing, huh?"

"Needed to be here; with you," Danny mumbled. "Because we _do_ need to talk ... I had to be here. There's no time."

"Yeah," Steve agreed softly. He ducked his head to rest against Danny's neck, his voice soft. "I wish we had more time; all of a sudden we've got nothing to work with. Nothing at all."

Steve was one hundred percent correct there. There was no time to really manage things to their liking. Both of them were rundown and way off their games. Forced into a corner, they were reacting to everything being thrown at them and Danny hated it.

"Jerry has more on the aunt," Danny eventually shared, forcing himself to stand taller so he could look into Steve's face. "She's vetting out ... almost too good to be true, but she's C.J.'s legal court-appointed guardian. Has been for over a year. And her resources?" He shook his head to silently stress what that meant, but the motion made him dizzy. He swallowed thickly as his vision swam a bit before he whispered the crux of the issue. If he sounded more blunt than he'd intended, Danny couldn't help it.

"It's not looking good for us, Steve."

For a long moment, Steve stared down at him in silence, his expression worried and completely conflicted about what he probably wanted to say next.

"I'm sorry," Danny whispered, not knowing how to take Steve's silence but knowing that his partner was not and would not be willing to digest anything either he or Jerry Ortega had to say about what was left of the Gardner family.

"I won't allow him to be hurt," Steve finally stated. His tone was firm and for one instant, any uncertainty became anger. "Not by anyone."

"Okay. One day - one _hour_ \- at a time. It's all we can do," Danny continued to whisper. He put his hand on Steve's arm, partly to soothe, partly to maintain his dwindling sense of balance. He was sweating, feeling more sick by the minute. His jaw hurt with every voiced word, but he had too much to say and was determined to get most of it out even if talking left him feeling woozy.

"Meeting here? I like it ... it's good," Danny paused to catch his breath. "... we'll tell C.J. in the morning. If you want ... Charlie can skip school. It'll help C.J. to have someone his own age here; too many adults if not. What do you think? Charlie stays home ... we'll take it slow ... baby-steps. Control what we can?"

Danny swallowed hard for a second time. He was breathless now and he found himself awkwardly dabbing at his lip, chasing after the saliva which had built up from his inability to speak well. His thoughts wavered and he swallowed again as his throat played an unhappy dance between his aching head and turbulent stomach. A few minutes home and he was already disobeying the doctor's disgusted recommendations to at least stay off his feet and keep the stress to a bare minimum. If the doctor had really known him though, he'd have saved his breath. For his part, Danny was going to have to admit the doctor might have been right. He was thrilled to be home; see Steve and the boys. Yet, physically, he was a mess.

"I don't want to lose him - I'm not sure I can," Steve said. "He's ... special ... he _fits_, Danny. I'm sorry, too, but you and me ... we don't have an hour to decide about this." His eyes were suspiciously dark as he gently took Danny under his arm to hold him close again. What started as a soft rumble escalated as Steve's worries and fears spiked. "You should have seen him in that damned closet. His god-damned _birth_ father! For all that's been done to him, he's still an innocent, loving little boy and I absolutely will not allow him to be hurt ever again! Emily Gardner is going to have to prove her very existence and if C.J. shows any sign of fear - anything at all - Gardner and Bernfeld are going to learn the hard way what immunity and means from a Governor's task force gives us the right to do."

"Closet?" Danny asked. He blinked, feeling a surge of shock run through his system. "What ... _closet_?"

"Travers. I'd like to kill him!" Steve spat out, making Danny wince as his voice grew more strident. "You have no fucking clue!"

"No. No, I don't," Danny admitted. He tried to take a steady breath in, but his emotions were suddenly overwhelming him. "What ... _closet_ ... what the hell happened to him today?" A not so tiny jackhammer rattled his brain and Danny closed his eyes as his stomach clenched in response; he was having serious trouble now. "Steve? Tell me ... what happened to C.J. today?"

"It ... _Jesus_, Danny. I'm sorry ... they ... on the boat, they took pictures of him ... then they locked him away in a closet," Steve said. His eyes were glassy and dark. "It's how I found him and he was so damned scared. He just looked so damned _small_. Helpless ... and his father? He didn't care ... except for losing out on some god-forsaken _deal_, he honestly didn't _care_!"

"Jesus Christ," Danny moaned under his breath. "A fucking _closet_?" He wobbled as Steve made a worried sound and tucked Danny closer yet, apparently feeling the fast change in Danny's posture. The switch in Steve's tone was astonishing as he smoothly made Danny the priority, completely changing the subject.

"Easy. He's fine now and he's home. We can talk in the morning," Steve said. "I'm sorry. Get inside. _Please_. You look like you're about to pass out, buddy. You need to get off your feet, Danno."

"I will ... if you will," Danny dared whisper one final demand as he allowed Steve to pilot him back inside the house.

"Sure," Steve murmured as he managed to get Danny to the bedroom. "Nice socks, Danno," he said as he pulled the hospital's nubby-bottomed slippers from Danny's feet only to help him into the baggiest sleep pants and t-shirt he could find. "Meds?" Steve asked as Danny sank onto his side, eyes wedged tightly shut. "Where?"

Helpless to know the answer, Danny moaned under his breath. He pointed a trembling hand towards the front of the house, hoping Steve understood him. Jerry had pocketed whatever the doctor had given him before leaving and Danny was clueless as to where the small bag was by that point. Steve whispered something else, but Danny missed it entirely. When he left against medical advice, Danny had thought he'd check on Steve and the boys. He'd assumed that they'd talk and he'd share Jerry's latest intel. He'd very wrongly assumed that Steve would fill him in on Mitchell Bernfeld, Billy Travers and how exactly he'd gotten shot earlier in the day. Not to mention, told him every single detail concerning C.J. and how Travers had gotten to him in the first place. Instead, Danny found himself weakly lying on his side, hugging a pillow and making a desperate plea for his stomach to behave itself. The ride home had taken its toll but their short conversation on the lanai had done him in. One simple question about the location of his own meds had left him drained and shaking.

"Jerry? Lou? Hold on; don't move."

He felt Steve leave and drifted for the longest of times, dimly running odd scenarios about Bernfeld, Emily Gardner and C.J. through his head. Crazy things which bordered on nightmare, only stopping in the terrible cycle when Steve returned and eased him up to take two pills. More words were whispered and then Steve was alongside him, encouraging him to lay back. Positioning him so that he was comfortably propped against Steve's shoulder. All of which was infinitely better than being alone in the hospital and imagining - _worrying_ \- about things at home. However, he hadn't exactly wanted Steve to be tasked with taking care of _him_.

"M'sorry," Danny virtually hummed the sound out as Steve pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

"You? For what? You're _home_ ... and you call me crazy," Steve whispered back. Even if he was stressed beyond measure, there was a loving smile in his tone as he ran his fingers the length of Danny's arm where it lay draped over his chest. "You're _home_ and I want you to rest ... sleep if you can. We'll talk in the morning. Right now, the kids are safe ... they're sound asleep and they're both safe."

"You?" Danny blindly sought Steve's fingers. "And ... you?" He was anxious on so many levels. But Danny wasn't able to adequately communicate any of things he'd hoped to discuss after leaving the hospital that evening. Especially how he'd found Steve, looking so pained and exhausted. _Alone_ and with what had looked like the weight of the world on his shoulders. Under his head, Danny felt Steve ease further down, getting more comfortable as he wrapped his long body around Danny. Minutes later, Danny sensed the calming ebb and flow of Steve's breathing.

"Me? I'm good, Danno. I can't believe you're here ... that you're home," Steve whispered again and Danny relaxed even more when he heard the depth of warmth in his tone. "This is good enough for me. Trust me ... I'm better than good right now." Steve was indeed _good_ and incredibly relieved to have Danny there. Proven as another kiss or two was mouthed along the ridge of Danny's aching temple.

"Had to be'ere," Danny quietly reiterated.

"Stubborn bastard," Steve said softly. "Can't believe you did this ... but _this_ is why I love you so much." Steve's breath was warm against Danny's forehead as fingers continued that abstract trail up and down the inner skin of his arm.

"Love you, too," Danny murmured. And he did. Danny's lips twitched contentedly just once as Steve repeatedly hummed soothing words into his shoulder. He drifted into a contented sleep aware of Steve's comforting presence, their fingers loosely laced together.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	24. Chapter 24

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: Phew -**_ tough tough chapter!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"Am I like a real detective now, Danno?" Charlie asked as Danny ran his fingers dotingly through his hair. They were sitting together on a lounge chair, Danny as comfortable as he could be considering his bumps and bruises. Charlie had his back to him as they sat on the lanai watching Steve and C.J. who were down on the beach.

"You sure are," Danny said. To say that his son had been thrilled to stay home from school that day to help him with C.J.'s very special visitors, was a complete understatement. Practically bouncing with pent-up energy, Charlie was taking his role to take care of C.J and to stay by his side, very seriously. Keeping him on the lanai while his Uncle Steve spoke to his charge down by the beach had been a true trial and tribulation unto itself.

"I'm like his partner ... his back-up," Charlie added. "Like you and Uncle Steve."

"Yup, you are one hundred percent, C.J.'s special back-up," Danny agreed while keeping a circumspect eye on the boy in question. "When Uncle Steve is done talking with him, C.J. might need you to stay super close so he feels better."

"So he doesn't get scared again," Charlie said very seriously, his brow scrunched up. "So he feels safe. But ... Danno? Can we go swimming first?"

"Maybe soon," Danny said, smiling with care around bruises and a sore mouth. "Yeah, I guess so." He tried not to laugh. Charlie could change subjects and interests on the fly. And, while he was keen on helping C.J., he was just as interested in having some fun on this odd day-off from school. "Your Uncle Steve has to explain to C.J. who's coming over to the house ... remember, this is where we might need your help, buddy. One of the men is a private investigator. Sort of like a detective but he made a mistake yesterday and he accidentally scared C.J."

"I know," Charlie said sadly. "Those were mean, bad people who stole him. Uncle Steve said that his arm hurts a lot too. But I bet swimming would make it feel better," he quickly added, continuing to find ways to plead his case to get into the water despite how serious he was about his job. "It's super hot out."

While all of those were a true statements, Danny knew something else was coming. Something big. He could sense it as Charlie paused in his layering of idea after idea. Building one's case by dog-piling a ton of options usually netted some gain; Charlie had learned that early on. However, there was more. Charlie was too quiet ... suddenly too still. None of these things were a good sign in any Williams' child.

"Okay. Spill. What else?" Danny dared ask as his son took a deep breath.

"Ummm, Danno?" Danny made a face at the tone, as well as the unnecessary use of his name. This was a big build up indeed. Things were getting hot and heavy because next, Charlie's eyes dropped to the ground. He stared at some imaginary spot near their chair, his lips in a tight line. Whatever his son was going to ask would be loaded for sure. It could be anything from being allowed to swim in deeper water with his Uncle Steve to even a picnic-surfing adventure at the park. However, Danny wasn't at all ready for what Charlie actually asked.

"Yeah, buddy?" Danny prompted.

"C.J.? Is he going to be my new brother?"

The unexpected boldness of this question was so innocently astute, that if Danny thought he'd be sick the night before, then that feeling came back in a heady rush. It might even have increased ten-fold as his son stared directly into his face. Open, honest and perhaps even hopeful for a positive reply, Charlie was far too attentive. Suddenly, any other questions he'd had about swimming were completely and absolutely tabled.

"I ...I don't know, Charlie," Danny whispered when his mouth went dry. "I really don't know what's going to happen."

"But ... he wants to stay and ...," Charlie's expression remained serious. "... and I'd _like_ a brother, Danno. Can C.J. stay with us? Please? He can share my room."

"Charlie, I'm really not sure," Danny said. "I don't know ... I don't know what to say."

"Oh," Charlie said softly. The disappoint was tangible and Danny got lost inside his head.

He rubbed at the side of his temple as his headache immediately thickened. They hadn't really explained everything about what would happen that day to either boy as yet. Steve was supposed to be doing some of that now with C.J. privately. A difficult-enough conversation to have with any child; made worse in C.J.'s case because of their limited ability to communicate. Both he and Steve were sensitive to how to say - how to describe anything at all - and scared to death about the boy's possible reaction. Charlie's question just upped the ante exponentially. Especially if C.J. managed to say or explain his wants to Charlie without the adults knowing. Danny for one hadn't counted on the boys potentially coming up with their own plans.

He looked beyond Charlie to where Steve was now kneeling with his hands wrapped around little Conor James' waist. The boy had his hands on Steve's shoulders. The soft white cast stood out like a sore thumb and Danny grimaced unhappily. Steve had filled him in earlier with all the details Danny had been lacking. The way Billy Travers had bided his time just waiting for C.J. to be out of their sight. Leaving the boy with Janice Lee had permitted Travers the window of time to do whatever he'd wanted and his hasty plan had worked almost well enough. It would have been a seamless abduction if not for Mitch Bernfeld.

_"I like him Danno,"_ Steve had admitted in the quiet before they'd gotten up that morning. _"I want to hate him, but I like him. A lot. He's a good guy; means well. He did all the right things and without him, C.J. would be gone right now ... trafficked ...overseas ... to some sick pervert."_

"Damnit," Danny whispered under his breath as he recounted Jerry's intel for the hundredth time. If Bernfeld had proved himself to Steve then Jerry's information on the rest of the Gardner family had to be equally credible. It was good news and they both should have been happy. But neither he nor Steve could get there yet. And now there was the issue of his son's question.

Riveted to the two people he cared about very much, Danny felt his heart continue to thud loudly in his ears when Steve moved to sit in the sand. He sat there cross-legged in front of C.J. who had stayed standing. Gestures, finger-signs and some excited sharing of information had gone back forth for some time. However, it now appeared as if Steve had reached a major stumbling block in how to talk with the boy and he was pulling out his cell phone. And god help him, Danny knew exactly why Steve would do that. After spending time online and looking through the baby sign language website, Steve had been worried about being clear enough without frightening the boy. Using pictures to fill in the gaps were the obvious choice. Pictures were worth a thousand words, right?

"Maybe too many words," Danny murmured under his breath. An illogical feeling of panic settled in his chest and Danny reflexively reached out to his son. "Hey, Charlie? I need a hug, buddy." He smiled, his heart still feeling nearly broken in half as Charlie immediately folded himself into his arms. In the distance, he could see Steve awkwardly signing something to C.J. and he pulled Charlie in even more tightly. Danny knew what Steve was saying. He knew what Steve was showing the boy and he should have been happy, instead he felt distinctly unsettled.

"A big one. As big a hug as you've got."

**H5O* H5O**

Steve wasn't at all sure that C.J. was understanding him. There were just too many words and ideas to try and get across even after trying to study some ideas online. Quite frankly, Steve lacked the skills-set and not only because of his young age, C.J. also lacked the ability to properly communicate without having had the right education. Steve was stuck and needed to start with something that any kid would understand and find some excitement over; after that, he could couch the other and much larger issues at hand. Pinning a warm smile to his face, Steve sat in the sand. He opened his fingers wide and touched his middle finger to his chin and then down to his chest.

"We missed your _birthday_," he said out loud while pointing next to C.J. He tapped his own chest and then gestured up to where Danny and Charlie were sitting. He wrapped his hands around C.J.'s waist to give him gentle, happy little shake, swaying his small body from left to right. Then, he slowly repeated the finger-sign for _birthday_ with his right hand. Middle finger to chin, then to chest, fingers splayed wide. The sign was easy. According to the baby dot com website, that was the most popular and best sign for _birthday_ and it must have been right. Steve's contrived smile became genuine when C.J.'s eyes brightened in surprise.

'_Me_?' C.J. tapped his own chest excitedly. _'Me ... mine?'_ He signed again, tapping his chest so fast, that Steve had to laugh and capture C.J.'s fingers while nodding.

"Yes," he said and signed at the same time. He held up six fingers with a huge smile and then tapped his chin and chest for a third time, laughing out loud when C.J. got so excited he could barely stand still. "Your _birthday_ and you're _six_ years old now." Steve wasn't at all sure how to say _when_ it had been or if C.J. understood that it had already happened. Step one was accomplished at least and there was no doubt at all that the boy at least understood that there was a birthday involved.

"Okay, now listen to me," Steve said as he gripped C.J. around the waist to try and keep the excited little boy steady on his feet. "Today," he said. "Some people are coming ... for your _party_." Copying what he'd seen on the website, he used both hands to make what looked to him like twin shaka signs. Then he rocked his hands from side to side.

"_Party_," he repeated while dancing the two shakas in front of his body. He took a deep breath unsure if what he was about to do was the smartest thing in the world or the stupidest. He tapped his watch and then showed C.J. three fingers. "At three o'clock we're going to have a _party_ for you ... for your _birthday_."

'_Me_?' C.J. tapped his chest. _'I'm six!'_' He laughed a breathy sound and then jumped up and down. With one hand, he made the sign for _party_ and was so happy that Steve wasn't sure if he should try to explain the next bit. Maybe he should just be relieved that they'd gotten this far. Maybe he should give up on trying to explain Emily Gardner's pending arrival. Yet, that felt wrong and begged trouble. Steve innately knew that a surprise of that magnitude could have the wrong impact on the boy. He needed to tell him ... he needed to keep going.

"Yup, little man," he said out loud. "For _you_ ... but some other people are coming, too." Taking a very deep breath and ignoring the dull left-over ache in his chest, Steve exhaled slowly before distinctly signing the word _aunt_. He'd had to look it up to remind himself how to do it, remembering once he saw the video demonstration that C.J. had definitely asked for his aunt once before. Because of that, Steve had no doubt that the boy would understand him right away.

"Your _aunt_ is coming, C.J.," Steve said. "Your _aunt_ is coming here." He signed the word by making a fist and forming the letter '_a_'. Thumb first, he made a small circle by his cheek. "Do you understand?" He asked, knowing full well that the boy did because he wasn't moving anymore. In fact, C.J.'s smile was gone. He was standing stock still, his eyes locked on Steve. He didn't seem scared though; his expression was one of awe and wonder.

Swallowing hard and making himself smile calmly for C.J.'s sake in case he was reading him wrong, Steve repeated the finger-sign and then gently gripped his small shoulders. "We found your _aunt_ and she's coming here today. Your _aunt_ is coming for your _birthday_."

When the boy still didn't move, Steve paused to sign the two words he knew: _aunt_ and then _birthday_. C.J. stared at him with an odd look in his eyes and what Steve did next, he did very carefully. He held up his finger and pulled out his cell phone to quietly page through the first few images he had stored on it from Mitchell Bernfeld. When he found what he wanted, he tapped his finger on the screen. C.J. moved closer to see, his good hand on Steve's shoulder, his fingers flexing almost nervously.

"Okay, look," he said. "Do you know her?"

Struggling with his inner wants and feelings, he showed C.J. the picture he had of Emily Gardner. He waited as the boy studied it, holding his breath as those little fingers continued to flex back and forth. When their eyes finally met, Steve believed he was ready for anything. Anger, fear ... even if C.J. might be clueless. But when his fingernails dug hard into his shoulder, Steve wasn't at all ready for the smile which lit up his eyes. Nor the size of the hug which followed as the boy wrapped his arms around his neck.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	25. Chapter 25

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_my thanks to Phoebe for tremendous support on plot and direction - sticking to the plan is key. And Jazzie for general 'bunny whumping'!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

C.J. rested his chin on the counter top, all eyes as Lou Grover peered teasingly into the over-sized shopping bag.

'_Wow_,' Lou's mouth said. He rubbed his tummy with his hand and grinned down at C.J. While the big big man could see inside the bag, C.J. couldn't see a thing and he tapped the counter impatiently with his hand.

_'Show me!'_ He tried to sign, almost jumping with frustration when Lou pointed to the bag as if confused.

_'What? This?'_ His mouth said and C.J. nodded eagerly.

_'Yes!'_ C.J. signed, knowing that Lou at least knew that word. Lou knew what _yes_ meant! With a dramatic shrug, the man continued to play this game though. He looked in the bag again and made an _'o_' shape with his mouth. He gave C.J. a thumbs-up and then he _finally _started to pull what C.J. knew had to be his birthday cake out of the bag.

The bag moved as the bakery box came all the way up to the top. It was a big box and Lou was struggling with how heavy it seemed to be. It was really big and C.J. got even more excited. He caught a glimpse of the white and pink picture on its side. A cartoon picture of a lady walking a poodle and carrying a pretty cake box. But then Lou was hiding the box again back inside the bag and C.J. couldn't believe it! He slapped at the counter over and over, his hand moving like lightning but giggling as Lou rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

_'You want that?'_ Lou seemed to ask him, waving a dismissive hand at the bag. '_Nah ... it's no good.'_

_'Yes! My ... cake!'_ C.J. signed with one hand, not caring if Lou really knew the finger-signs or not. He knew that Lou was playing a joke and he was funny. But C.J. wanted to see his cake and he wanted to see it now!

He grinned and tapped crazily at the counter when Steve finally came in to the kitchen. He pointed to the bag and then to Lou, tapping the counter again.

_'My birthday cake!' _ He signed to Steve, asking for help. '_Please_!' C.J. added for good measure.

_'Hey!'_ Steve said. He signed the word _party_ and pointed to C.J, looking make-believe mad at Lou.

_'What?'_ Lou seemed to ask, laughing and backing up as Steve smacked at the big man's hands before shouldering him out of the way.

Then Steve was in the shopping bag and taking out the bakery box to put it on the counter top. And it _was_ a big box, too. He popped the lid open and smiled happily when he looked inside. For a minute, C.J. thought Steve would be funny like Lou and not show him what was inside and C.J. was sure he would burst. It smelled so good, too - like chocolate. He fidgeted and signed the word for _chocolate_ by making the letter '_c_' and moving his hand in a circle like he was mixing a bowl of gooey choc-lately syrup. Steve and Lou didn't understand him though, so C.J. tapped the counter again, his fingers moving so fast to show how impatient he was because he just couldn't wait anymore.

_'Okay, okay! Here!'_ Steve said as he held his hands out to pick C.J. up, allowing him to practically climb up his body.

The cake was big and covered in a rich dark layer of chocolate icing. Then there were fat balloons piped across its top in yellow, red and white frosting with swirly words which C.J. was smart enough to be able to read.

**_Happy Birthday, CJ !_**

He read the wish and for some reason he couldn't explain, his lip quivered. His breath hiccupped hard inside his chest and without even warning himself, C.J. burst into tears. He felt a hand on his back, big and warm. Then Steve was talking, the familiar vibration of his voice soft to his cheek. A new pair of hands reached out to take him from Steve and C.J. opened his eyes just enough to see that it was Danny.

Danny had been there when he and Charlie had woken up that morning and that had been a big surprise because Steve had said Danny was still sick and would be in the hospital. But he had been there even if he had those scary bruises on his cheek which C.J. felt really bad about. As Danny took him from Steve, C.J. reached out, going willingly enough into the man's arms and aware that Charlie was there now, too, even as he buried his face in Danny's neck.

They walked together - he and Danny - there in the house, for a good long while. Just between the kitchen and the living room, C.J. was rocked in Danny's arms as if he were a baby. He was still crying the entire time though. He couldn't stop the tears which kept coming long and hard. He couldn't seem to stop even if he didn't know why he was doing it.

Every so often C.J. felt the gentle rumble of Danny's voice through his bouts of uncontrollable, heart-wrenching sobs. Sometimes he could feel Danny's hand as it rubbed nonstop circles over his back while Danny kept walking back and forth with C.J.'s ankles hooked tightly around his waist. And as he calmed down, he sensed that Charlie was still there, following closely and trying to help.

Staying tucked into Danny's chest, C.J. hiccuped and wheezed even as Danny sat down on the sofa in the living room. After a time though, he peeked out from Danny's shoulder, allowing himself to be moved and made to sit sideways across Danny's lap. He didn't want to talk though. He didn't even want to think about anything much at all. Instead as he rested snug in Danny's arms, C.J. sucked in his bottom lip, feeling quieter and a little bit less sad. He thumbed lazily at the corner of Danny's shirt when the man pressed a kiss or two to the top of his head.

He looked at Charlie through his leftover tears, his breath now softly hitching in his chest. His friend reached out and took his good hand to give a small tug. C.J. didn't move though. He wasn't sure he wanted to go anywhere yet when it was so much easier to stay where he was. Ever patient, Charlie tried again. Then, he signed the word for _play_ and pointed towards the lanai.

_Maybe_, C.J. thought to himself as he considered getting up and going out in the sunshine.

"Come on!" Charlie said out loud, not using any signs but eager to go out and finally, C.J. nodded even as he sniffled and itched at his stuffy nose. He was hot in the house and didn't want to be inside anymore. He didn't want to sit on Danny's lap. He wasn't sure if Danny or Steve might be mad at him though for crying.

He looked up to Danny to see if things were really okay and then said the only thing he could think of saying, almost afraid of the answer._ 'Bad?_' He signed carefully. He took a deep breath and tapped his own chest. He was surprised though when Danny quickly shook his head.

_'No, no, no! You're good, buddy,'_ Danny both said and signed while giving him a big smile. He set C.J. on his feet and then cupped his cheek only to place a kiss on his forehead. He made a waving motion at the same time Charlie took his hand again.

"Go ... go _play_ with Charlie," Danny said. He spoke slowly, only able to sign the one word _play_ before he pointed to Charlie, then waved his hand towards the beach. "You two go ... go on!"

But C.J. stopped before he really even got moving. He dug his feet into the floor, refusing to move despite Charlie's grip on his good hand. He could still see Steve in the kitchen. Even Lou. They were talking and laughing; busy doing things. Getting food ready. Decorating. Getting ready for a ... party and he couldn't believe what he saw there now.

There were balloons! So many _balloons_ and C.J. looked to Danny, searching his face to be sure.

_'It's still your birthday,_' Danny explained calmly. He placed his hand on C.J.'s chest and then made the sign for _birthday_ by touching his middle finger to his chin, then to his own chest._ 'C.J.'s birthday,'_ he repeated with a smile. He waved his hand again, insisting that he go outside. _'Party ... three o'clock,'_ Danny added, making the shaka-like sign with both hands before holding up three fingers and tapping his wrist.

_'Play,'_ Charlie signed. '"Come on!" He said out this loud, his words easy enough for C.J. to understand. Then he pointed to his waist and C.J. grinned. Charlie was wearing his father's 5-0 badge and looking very serious now. He tugged even harder on C.J.'s arm to get his feet moving and C.J. finally allowed himself to be pulled along, looking back to give Danny a big smile.

** H5O* H5O**

"What the hell was that about?" Steve asked as soon as the two boys left the house. He chanced a glance towards Lou, relieved when he saw their friend already discretely tailing the two children outside. In two steps, Steve was in Danny's airspace, his whisper loud and fraught with worry. "Is he okay? What did I do wrong? He was fine ... then he just wasn't."

"You didn't do a damned thing wrong. I think he reached maximum overload. He's been through a lot," Danny said._ God he was tired_, Danny thought to himself. They'd all been put through the proverbial wringer.

"He should be happy ... our idea to have a birthday party for him ... it seemed like such a great thing to do," Steve was saying. He all but threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "And why? We thought doing it this way would break the ice with Bernfeld ... his aunt. Be a great distraction and ease into all of these things. Well now? Maybe it wasn't such a great thing to try to do; it's too much for him."

"No. I disagree. It _is_ a good idea," Danny said. "His birthday is a big deal ... but _saying_ something isn't the same as _seeing_ it and the cake ... a _real_ birthday cake ... for C.J.? He's six years old, Steve, and this meltdown of his was the only way he knew how to cope with the attention. It would have happened even if Bernfeld and his aunt weren't coming; it would have happened if they didn't exist because I swear to god, that little boy innately knows that his mother is gone. He's seen more with her than you or I ever have! We only saw the aftermath ... he lived it! So I tell you what: I'd rather this kind of reaction, than no reaction at all."

"Makes sense," Steve replied. He pursed his lips in consideration of Danny's explanation and then nodded in agreement. "All of that shit heaped on him. And now he's got balloons and a cake ... Charlie as a friend," he said. "Lou swung by the store, too, before he got the cake. He picked up a few presents. Simple things. A toy or two. A couple of shorts and shirts. That boy has a lot of people who care."

"No, not people who just care," Danny added quietly. "Adults that tell him the truth; are serious about taking care of him and prove to him constantly how much they really do love him. And Charlie ... it's more than that with him, too."

He inwardly cringed about Steve's mention of Charlie and sat down at the kitchen table. Yeah, Charlie was C.J.'s friend. But what he'd said earlier was fresh on Danny's mind. It was yet something else to worry about and Steve was still clueless as to what Charlie had asked him that very morning. The two boys were quite possibly making assumptions or hatching plans ... about wanting to be _brothers_. The boys - no, all of them - were fast approaching uncharted territory and it was downright frightening. Danny closed his eyes as his stomach complained about his long-winded conversation; the way his head was thudding in time to each of his shallow breaths. In all honesty, his body was generally disagreeable about everything he'd just done. The walking. The cuddling. The spike in stress over C.J.'s crying jag. Charlie's innocent question about if the two boys might become brothers. All of it was working against him in a nasty way.

"Danny?" He heard Steve say his name and swallowed hard instead of answering. He needed to calm down and relax; maybe even take some pain-killers. But as he tried to force himself to relax, Danny groaned under his breath in self-disgust. He thumbed his forehead hard before tenting his fingers to rest his head. He bleakly wondered when he was going to feel better. He'd had an iffy night, sleep broken by his discomfort and worry over what was coming down the pike at them. Now that the day had dawned, his stress was growing instead of getting better ... along with his damnable migraine. It didn't matter though. None of it. He needed to soldier on and find some way to manage through the hours to come. But damned if he didn't feel sick ...

"Danny?" Steve was scowling at him when Danny finally opened his eyes.

"What?" Danny asked, squinting badly now. His thoughts had slowed and become murky; he'd obviously zoned out. Steve's hands were on hips and Danny huffed a semi-amused noise as Steve put him under a microscope. He'd taken C.J. out of Steve's arms for the very same reason Steve was worried about him: both of them were still hurting. Each had strict doctors' orders to follow and medication to take. But where Danny felt he could manage a sore jaw, a sloppy word or two, and a massive headache, Steve was under orders to not bend, lift or exert himself in any way for a day or two. That included, picking up small children!

"Seriously?" Danny asked snarkily.

"Yeah, seriously," Steve challenged back. "You look like crap again; you've got a dent in the back of your head that you seem to forget about ... a _concussion_ ... you had a bad night, Danno ... and ..."

"All right, all right," Danny interrupted. "I know ... let it go Steven. I'll be fine." Sure he felt sick again. His stomach was as unhappy as it had been the day before. He probably shouldn't have left the hospital but that was one subject that neither he nor Steve would dare bring up. Both of them at least agreed there - Danny needed to be home and medically speaking, he wasn't in any danger to have left of his own accord. Nonetheless, Danny must not have felt well because he simply didn't feel like taking their little spat any farther. Sitting at the table, he once more leaned over and rested his aching head in his hands.

Danny didn't say a word as Steve sat down next to him. But Steve didn't speak either. At least not at first. They were knee to knee though and Danny could feel Steve's impatience through the constant jiggle of his knee.

"The kids are fine," Steve whispered eventually. "We have a few hours ... get off your feet."

"Maybe," Danny muttered into his hands, knowing he wouldn't. He had no intention of laying down or even leaving the kitchen. While he ached to lay down, he knew there'd be no way he could do that, even for a few minutes. He was about to shake his head when Steve stood back up.

"There's no maybe about it," Steve amended his words. "I'll keep you company ... we'll both take an hour ..._ an hour,_ Danny. Stay here for a minute."

Danny didn't know what to say as he sensed Steve leave him. His brain simply couldn't compete with the incessant drilling inside his head. Apparently Steve had his own set of plans anyway.

"Let's go. Lou's got the kids," Steve said a few seconds later. He gently pulled Danny to his feet with the obvious intent of helping him to the bedroom. But Steve took a few short steps before he stopped and turned.

"Wait. C'mere," he murmured as he pulled Danny into a warm embrace. The spontaneous show of affection wasn't exactly new, but it certainly bespoke volumes about Steve's worries and fears. Eyes closed and carefully wending his arms around Steve's waist, Danny rested his head against his shoulder, relishing one thing: the simplicity of their closeness.

Whatever happened next, they'd manage it together. All of it. But for this brief, quiet moment in time, they stood there alone just holding each other.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	26. Chapter 26

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_hope you're all ready for a long chapter. It didn't seem right to split this up so please put your feet up (if you're so inclined), grab some milk and cookies ... and soldier on! And the rounds of drafts which were read and read and read ... thanks Phoebe so so much. And Jazzie for persistent bunny thwacking to keep going because what's meant to be will be written._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve gingerly propped himself up on one elbow and rode out his body's objection to the awkward position. The ache was worth it and soon forgotten. Danny was lying partly on his side, sound asleep, his head turned towards the door. He liked watching Danny when he slept which was oftentimes a rarity and this was definitely one of those instances. The hour had gone by quickly and they'd both actually slept; to be honest, Steve had been more on the cusp of a twilight since he'd palmed his medication. If Danny had known - and he still might find out - he'd likely blast Steve from one side of Oahu to the other. Biting back a sigh, Steve studied Danny's lax face. He needed to wake Danny before their guests arrived, but as he lay on his side, Danny was finally and truly out for the count. Truly sleeping in a healing sort of way. Steve re-checked the time, scowling about what he needed to do. They were down to the wire and he had no choice if they wanted to be ready for Mitchell Bernfeld and Emily Gardner. Besides getting themselves in some kind of respectable order which included being on their A-game, they had two little boys to bathe and dress, too. Steve couldn't expect Lou Grover to do everything for them that day even if the man wouldn't have batted an eye. So now, whether he wanted to or not, Steve was obligated to get them both moving.

"Danny. It's time."

Steve ran his fingers through Danny's hair, gently carding a few stray strands of hair from his cheek. "It's time to wake up," he whispered as he kissed the side of Danny's head, then his cheek, noting the warmth of his skin and just how deeply Danny was out. He doused his flicker of alarm while following a soft path to Danny's mouth where he stopped, just shy of the damaged lip when Danny made an objectionable sound. A flicker of annoyance creased his brow before quickly disappearing.

"Come on, hey. Danno, you've got to wake up now," Steve said as he nuzzled the side of Danny's cheek with his nose, gently mouthing lower to the sensitive skin of his neck. His fingers which had been tangled in blond strands automatically found their way to the planes of Danny's ribs where they stroked a teasingly light line. "Open your eyes," Steve whispered again. "I know you can hear me."

He grinned through his attentions when he felt a subtle chill-like tremor which rippled through Danny's body and directly back into his own. Danny squirmed a bit, halfheartedly trying to avoid the tickle only to relax. Nonetheless, Steve's tactics were certainly getting through Danny's sleepy state of awareness. Danny's lips might have even twitched upwards as Steve repeated the process, but he still didn't open his eyes.

"If you keep this up, I'm re-declaring my dictatorship," Steve whispered. "And benevolent won't be part of the discussion. You'll be off the case. Confined to this room ... to bed. And only to sleep. If you fight me on it, then it's back to the hospital."

"You wouldn't dare," Danny murmured as he turned into Steve. Eyes still closed and drowsy from sleep and medication, he had no trouble finding Steve's mouth ... his lips ... and Steve hummed a pleased sound as his initially simple kiss was deepened. If Steve had a kink, it was Danny's mouth. The cant of his lips when they were moving, not moving ... the way he smiled. The firm line they adopted in anger. It didn't matter. Steve loved Danny's mouth whether it be verbally sparring with him or prompting a physical war of tongues as it was doing now. He hummed again as Danny gently nipped at his bottom lip, only to gently take control by returning the kindness.

"No?" He asked softly, moving a bit to entwine their legs. "I would," Steve said. "I sure as hell _would_ because you need more time." He knew they weren't in any shape or form for sleepy antics. His change in position was more out of habit and comfort than a hint for something more intimate. "Do you really think that i wouldn't dare?" Steve murmured as he stole back possession of their next kisses.

"I'd have you locked up in a heartbeat."

Warm from sleep though, it was Danny who broke the kiss first to rest his head against Steve's chest. "A heartbeat, huh?" He chuckled softly. "We can revisit _that_ suggestion and just how long it might take after all of this is behind us," he murmured. "But right now, you need me more."

"I don't ... I mean. Incredible," Steve muttered petulantly because Danny was right. He felt bested even when his partner was sorely under the weather.

"Admit it," Danny said, his tone smug. "You need me here." To prove his point, Danny tucked himself closer to Steve, melding himself to Steve's longer frame. Steve's automatic response was to wrap his arms around him.

"No. I hate this," Steve admitted as he pulled Danny closer still while sinking back down to the mattress. Theirs was a hopeless situation. Steve really did need Danny there but it felt as if it was at the expense of Danny's health. Making everything so much worse, once they put their feet on the floor, reality was going to hit them square between the eyes. At a loss, Steve simply put all his worries out there.

"I hate how you feel and what could happen today. I hate that this party feels like a total sham and that C.J. could get scared all over again."

"Steve, you know that it's not a sham," Danny said. "I don't think he'll be scared this time around." His tone was gentle, understanding even, but he was already starting to dis-entangle himself from Steve's body. His voice was stronger as he woke more.

"He needs the positive attention anyway; a party ... using the excuse of a low-key birthday party is a calculated plan of action so that he _will_ feel safe ... to help him process things."

"Fine, okay," Steve replied as he gave Danny a parting kiss on his forehead. He had been well on board but was having doubts now. Maybe those doubts were par for the course. The day was beautiful. The venue - his own house. Lou had out-done himself in a short period of time. The only wild card was Emily Gardner. While she was a helluva unknown, they'd done the best they could from soup to nuts. He still had another question though and as Steve kicked the light sheet away to swing his feet off the bed, he asked it.

"But, I thought about something else, too ... suppose he doesn't want to go. What would happen if C.J. _chose_ to stay with us?"

"Won't matter," Danny said. He was fully awake now, his eyes open and clear. "He's too young to be allowed to have a choice or an opinion anyway, Steve. Don't you know that?"

"No. Of course he has a choice. What do you mean he doesn't?"

Instead of backing him up, Danny frowned. He hesitated, apparently deciding against whatever it was he was going to say. "Not now. We shouldn't even be talking about this right now," Danny stated quietly as he slowly got to his feet and carefully straightened his body, testing the waters. But he didn't offer anything else and Steve felt yet another spike of alarm.

"Danny?" Steve repeated his question as he got to his feet. "What does that mean: he has no choice?"

"We're debating things which may or may not happen. Let's just deal with today," Danny said. "Let's deal with ..."

_"Guys!"_ Lou's voice bellowed from below, interrupting Danny's words and stopping Steve, at least for the moment, from pushing harder. _"Bernfeld called ... they're on the way now,"_ Lou shouted._ "Right now! They're running earlier ... we need to get a move on!"_

"Shit. They're early ... now what?" Steve asked. Of all the scenarios he'd considered, this was not one of them. "Angela Marcos isn't even here yet."

"We stick to the plan," Danny replied. "We just take a deep breath and do this ... one hour at a time, Steve. We can do this."

_"Guys! You both up ... you hear me? We got thirty minutes! Tops!"_

"Got it, Lou!" Steve shouted back. "I think," he muttered under his breath. His feeling of being trapped, along with all the stress it brought with it came back in a rush and he felt sick as he looked at his partner. Danny was pale, his expression grim.

"Do we, Danny? Can we really do this?"

"We have to; we don't have a choice either," was the only reply which Danny could offer.

**H5O* H5O**

Steve and Lou were both still outside rounding up the boys when the car drove up. Nominated as the welcoming committee to run initial interference by Steve's declaration of dictatorship, Danny dragged himself to his feet from where he'd been sitting on the couch. He felt like crap and Steve knew it. While Steve then assumed that the wrangling of the kids might be a more stressful activity than greeting their arrivals, that assumption was debatable. More likely, it was that Danny was better equipped to handle Bernfeld and C.J.'s aunt. He had more in his verbal arsenal when it came to defusing potential situations such as this one.

As he carefully peered through the window to count heads, he was relieved to confirm that Mitchell Bernfeld and Emily Gardner were the only two inside the vehicle. Others weren't expected, but experience had taught Danny to expect the unexpected. He noted the style of car next, and was surprised it wasn't a limo. He'd more than half-expected Gardner to arrive with some kind of fanfare. This though?

Danny pursed his lips, mildly intrigued, as he discounted the red nondescript four-door airport rental as being almost achingly plain. Again, not what he'd expected even for a corporate mover and shaker. Unsmiling and sitting forward in the passenger seat, he could easily see that Emily Gardner was anxious based upon her posture alone. All right, that made sense at least and she wasn't the only one on edge. He pressed the pads of his fingers gently against his throbbing temple as he readied himself to greet the duo. He'd mentally prepared any number of things to say depending upon what he might be presented with from the benign to potentially needing to defuse a highly charged and antagonistic confrontation.

Part of his concerns also included Angela Marcos - or the current lack there-of. Gardner and Bernfeld were so early, the CPS representative hadn't had time to respond to the change in schedule. Her attendance might have aided calming some of C.J.'s possible responses; at minimum, her coaching would've been valuable to the adults. Not having her as a buffer now, made an already awkward situation potentially more difficult, but they had a few backup plans just in case C.J. reacted poorly. Of course one of those plans focused on 5-0's ability to exercise certain means. It was an extreme to be sure and of course, Steve's contribution.

A fictional pipe-dream if Danny ever had heard one. At least Steve hadn't setup a perimeter or suggested flash-bangs. Or escape by sea. Danny managed a rueful grin. No matter what happened next, no _means_ would be exercised. No _Governor_ contacted. There'd be no ex-SEAL's convening in their living room.

Besides, the real protective contingent behind C.J. was deep by that point. The boy's adoptive O'hana already ran thick and strong. Danny found himself smiling more just thinking about it. '_Uncle_' Lou was vested, as were the rest of the team, especially Jerry Ortega who felt close by the mere fact he'd done such intense digging on the Gardner family alone. As for Charlie, seeing Danny's 5-0 badge on his son's powder-blue board-shorts was a sight to behold. Even C.J. was impressed by that.

No one would be getting near the child if any single one of them even sensed the danger of a stubbed toe.

Now was the time to validate those facts as Mitchell Bernfeld parked in the driveway. Inhaling deeply and quickly palming a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, Danny squinted painfully against the brightness of the sun when he opened the front door. Another reason for being relegated to acting as the sole member of the welcoming committee had reared its ugly head. A concussion was nothing to play with and his vision was hypersensitive to motion and too much light. Just from stress, Danny was suffering from a dull headache and bouts of nausea. The sun made things one thousand times worse. Squinting through the darkest glasses he could find did him no favors. Nevertheless, he squared his shoulders and targeted the passenger side, weighing and measuring pictures to the person as Emily Gardner exited the car.

Long brown hair, straight and thin was tied back with a simple bow. Yellow to match the simple sunny-colored and travel-worn cotton dress she was wearing. Wearing yellow was an intentional move on her part. Somewhere along the line, Danny remembered being told by someone that C.J. not only liked the color yellow, but that his aunt often wore it to communicate his safety. It was one of their _things_. Danny couldn't help wondering what other special cues or signals C.J. and his aunt might have developed together. Maybe nothing, but as he studied Emily Gardner, he doubted that.

"Hello," Emily Gardner said as she offered her hand and stated the obvious. "I'm Emily. Emily Gardner. But ... but you know that; of course." The tremor in her voice was barely noticeable, yet it was there.

"Ms. Gardner ... it's nice to finally meet you," Danny said as he noted her slender build. "I'm Detective Danny Williams. Please feel free to call me Danny." Slender though bordered on being far too skinny which Danny intuitively realized was due to months of stress. Red-rimmed eyes were as brown as her nephew's and she tried to smile but was continually fighting to stay composed. And as he took her hand, she was shaking so badly, Danny found himself more reacting to steady than welcome her properly.

"Detective. Yes ... Danny. Okay, of course. Emily then," Emily offered politely, only slightly stumbling over her words in a voice which held a soft lilt but no real accent. "I know we're early," she added quickly. "I was able to make an earlier connection state-side out of Los Angeles ... and I just couldn't wait ... I needed to get here. I'm sorry if the timing caused any issues. But, I just had to get here."

"It's fine and I completely understand," Danny replied. And he certainly did. If it were him, he'd done the very same thing and without apology. Timelines and plans be damned, he'd insist on getting to his kids as fast as humanly possible. Looking at Emily Gardner now confirmed a few additional things, too. One, she was exhausted and looked as physically ill as he felt. He from injury, Emily from an overwhelming case of nervous tension brought on by months of stress. She'd been sincerely frantic over her nephew and still was by the looks of things.

"Mitchell Bernfeld. Mitch," the private investigator included himself as he shook Danny's hand next. "Though of course, you would know that, too, wouldn't you? It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Detective Williams. It really is ... and I hope you're feeling well." Warm and sincere, Bernfeld grinned, looking far more confident and pleased than his female client. Of course he would be pleased for any number of valid reasons: not only for the successful tracking of his quarry, but most importantly, for showing up at an astronomically critical moment. He'd literally saved C.J.'s life and Danny certainly would never take that credit away from the man.

"Mitch," Danny replied, a bit discomfited by the way the investigator was studying his face. "Thank you ... thank you for what you did."

"You have no idea. Or, maybe you do," the man said as his expression became much more serious and he acknowledged the sunglasses which Danny was wearing. "I'm sorry about that damned lackey ... about what happened. How _are_ you feeling?"

"Yes," Emily quickly added. "I was told you were injured ... are you all right? I should have asked. I'm sorry; I'm not thinking." She looked at his face appearing to be genuinely concerned, and Danny held up his hand to preempt any discussion about himself or his health. She was surprising him indeed and he was slowly beginning to think he knew where C.J. had gotten his good manners and sense of kindness.

"I'm fine. There's no need to be sorry either. Besides, if you knew my partner the way I do, something like this happens practically every day," Danny said as he pinned a smile to his face. "It's part of the job. Hell, it's practically my every day life around here." He tried to make light of what had happened to him at the onset of Billy Travers' plans. They weren't there to get immersed in the horrors of the case. Now was not the time to talk about Marjorie or how they'd found her. It was not the time to get into Travers.

Emily gave a weak nod, her eyes communicating her true need which Danny quickly acted upon. There was no need to delay the inevitable.

"C.J. ... um, Conor. We call him C.J.; it's how he introduced himself to us," Danny explained when he caught Emily's quizzical look. Danny nodded, demonstrating the easy finger signs for the boy's name.

Her mouth twitched upwards, her expression lighter. "He introduced himself?" She asked. "C.J. All right."

"He should be in the house getting dressed," Danny continued. "He was out back, playing with my son. They're about the same age. He knows you're coming today. He does ... we told him and he's very excited. But we were having some trouble getting them in. Boys ... and baths ...you know how it is."

"Sure. Baths ... of course," she murmured, glancing towards Bernfeld, her head bobbling on her neck like an errant toy. "Please. Can I see him now?"

"Yeah, of course but we need to do what Angela Marcos suggested. The woman handling the case from Child Protective Services," Danny said to remind them both. "We agreed not to rush him ... to let him make the first move. It's been months for both of you and in C.J.'s case, we can't afford to scare him. He's had a rough time and he needs to remember you; and in the very least, decide what happens next on his terms. I know it's been months for you too, and this is a difficult request, but he's processing things differently and ... "

"No, no, no. I understand. I really do ... and I brought something for Conor. Something he might remember," Emily quickly interrupted. She turned, stumbling over own two feet and catching herself against the car in her haste. From the front seat, she pulled out a floppy legged, once-plush stuffed animal. "He loved this thing; he couldn't go anywhere with out it," Emily explained. She bit her lip as her eyes welled with tears and she held the toy out for Danny to see.

"He never could sleep without having this old thing in his arms. I don't know how he managed after ... after Jorie _took_ him." Emily's voice quivered now. "He called it this ..."

Danny blinked behind the sunglasses, his heart in his mouth as Emily patted her right hand to the side of her hip, fingers splayed wide. "Simple really ... just the baby sign for _dog_ ... but when Conor wanted ... when he wanted his favorite toy, this is what he'd say."

"Okay," Danny managed when Emily made the finger-sign again. He hadn't expected her to know sign language which meant he was well off his game. He swallowed hard not knowing what to do. Sign language aside, what Emily was explaining was all so very normal. Something a parent would know and understand. In his case, Grace had had her favorite pink fuzzy blanket and Charlie? He was more easy-going in a lot of ways, but his son at a bare minimum had to have a special _something_ to sleep with at night. Lately, he had taken to a plushie Groot doll which Danny couldn't figure out since it was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. But if the kid slept the night, so be it. As for C.J., he'd continued to dote on his Captain America action figure. Not plush or cuddly, but the boy refused to let it go even when offered something else.

Nevertheless, looking at what Emily was holding now, its colors nearly gone from repeated washings, Danny sensed that C.J. might gravitate to this particular toy on sight.

"It's nice," he murmured. "I bet he remembers it. We should go in." He turned towards the house, fighting his emotions, sensing the two hot on his heels.

Anxiety etched across her face, Emily matched his pace, the stuffed toy now hugged tightly to her own chest. "Detective? Danny ... please tell me. With ... _him_. Mitch said that Conor was hurt? His wrist? Is Conor ... _C.J_. Is he ... all right? He must have been so frightened ... so terribly scared and alone."

"C.J.'s wrist was injured in the abduction but it's nothing serious," Danny explained as he ushered them into the house, easily guessing that the _him_ Emily referred to was Billy Travers. "His wrist is sprained; his fingers are a bit bruised. Nothing more. He needs to wear a soft cast for a few days. But he's fine now."

"Did _he_ hurt him ... more," Emily asked in a hoarse whisper. She swallowed audibly, lips trembling. "Those _people_ ... what they intended to do ... he's just a little boy."

Danny shook his head, relishing the darker cool of the house as he took his sunglasses off. He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose where an ache was refusing to let up. The house was far too quiet which he didn't understand. Lou and Steve should have had the boys well in hand; baths done. Clean clothes on. Yet, there wasn't a sound to be heard. "No, we got him out ... Steve got him out. And no, they didn't get that far. I promise that he's fine now and all of them are going to be spending a very long time locked up for what they tried to do."

Hiding his confusion, Danny moved them towards the decorated kitchen. Everything was in place, ready for a birthday party ... but no Steve in sight ... still not a peep from anywhere in the house.

_"_That's good," Emily said looking slightly appeased while continuing to follow closely on his heels. "I was afraid of something _more_. Something much, much worse. _He _is capable of horrible things. Terrible things."

"It almost was ... worse," Danny admitted. He was distracted though as he edged towards the kitchen window, trying not to appear too obvious. "But we got to C.J. in time with Mitch's help. Mitch got here and was able to get our office engaged quickly. They weren't going anywhere once that happened."

Emily glanced over to Mitch Bernfeld, a blatant fear still evident in her eyes.

"That bastard's going to be put away for a long time," Bernfeld quietly assured her. "Everyone did all the right things and Conor ... C.J. ... he's been very safe here with Commander McGarrett's team."

Danny pulled himself back from the window as he read between the lines. Emily Gardner was stronger than she looked even if she might be very much afraid of Billy Travers. She was well aware of what the man was capable of, even more so than 5-0 might have been. She was terrified of the man and still had boldly intervened to gain guardianship of her nephew; to protect C.J. from his birth father. To take that determination even farther by fighting her own sister to protect the boy.

"This is nice," Emily said as they entered the kitchen. "It's so pretty ... I had no idea you'd all manage to do all of this."

Danny had to smile too. Lou Grover had clearly outdone himself while they'd been resting. With the sun streaming in from the lanai, the room exuded happiness and color from the balloons to the stylized _Captain America Happy Birthday_ banner and to the paper-products. Lou had even managed to find themed paper plates and cups with that large chocolate cake front and center.

"We thought it would help," Danny said, gratified to see some of the tension easing in Emily's demeanor. "With all that's gone on ... we thought meeting at the house would be best ... and we thought more prudent - even more private - rather than the offices. The house is familiar to him. Once we combined the concept of a birthday party, it just felt more and more like the right thing to do."

"He loves chocolate," Emily noted softly when she saw the birthday cake. "You said familiar though? Is it because of your son? Had he met him at some point? I'm not sure I understand."

Danny paused as he searched for the right words; this was a question he hadn't considered being posed. Under different circumstances, such a reunion likely would not have been in a residential home; certainly not the home of the lead officers on the case. However the question was fair enough, as was Danny's truthful answer.

"Frankly, Steve and I had been first on the scene and we just hit it off with C.J. But something seemed off from the very beginning and we were worried about his safety. There were other considerations, too. The holiday weekend. The lack of CPS being able to find a suitable placement in time." Danny shook his head, his expression sober as he thought about the small bathroom and Marjorie Gardner's grievous condition.

"Until the one damned time we place him ... just for the day ... Travers comes out of nowhere."

"It's all right. _He's_ that way ... he's a snake," Emily said. "It doesn't matter anymore as long as Conor's safe. And I ... I can't thank you enough; all of you."

Much like she refused to mention Travers by name, she similarly seemed to be intentionally avoiding mention of her sister. Closing herself off for just a moment, Danny watched as Emily closed her eyes and hugged the toy even more tightly to her chest, her nose buried in its faux fur. She breathed in and out deeply, working to compose herself and Danny wondered just how many times she'd done exactly this over the last many, many months.

"Are you all right?" Danny asked.

"Emily?" Mitch also asked. His worry was practically tangible.

"He's just a little boy," Emily whispered into the stuffed animal. "And she _took_ him. It was so unfair; so unnecessary. When Jorie took him? That night she left? I thought I'd die. I really did."

"He's safe now. And honestly ... we enjoy having him. He ... he's ...," Danny stammered, making himself stop before he said the wrong thing. "He's a good little guy. We ... we ... well, my son also loves having him around."

He was at the cusp of admitting his own feelings; _their_ own want of keeping C.J. Admitting what Charlie had asked about having a brother. All causes he sensed slipping more and more away from them.

"Where is he?" Emily asked softly and Danny broke from his bittersweet musings. Where were they indeed? Oddly the four were still on the beach and for the life of him, Danny couldn't fathom why.

"They're still outside," he replied as he led them out to the lanai, gesturing towards where Charlie and C.J. were playing in the sand. He took a deep breath and then another, trying to figure out where his own emotions were landing. It didn't work though as his eyes settled on the boys. They were in identical positions - that almost impossible crouch that kids could maintain for hours on end, bottoms hovering inches from the ground - as they shoveled wet sand and dug holes. One blond, the other brunette. Heads nearly touching, the silhouettes were disturbingly reminiscent - like a dizzying sense of déjà vu - as he recalled Charlie's earlier words.

_"I'm like his back-up. Like you ... and Uncle Steve."_

"Yeah. Mirror images," Danny whispered to himself as he laser-focused next on Steve's tall form and finally managed to relax. Just a enough and at least for the moment. Then he tried to figure out what was taking so long for the two men to get the boys inside the house. It should have been an easy task. But it didn't take long for Danny to figure out the problem.

When he'd mentioned them having trouble getting the boys inside for baths, he'd been half-kidding. Apparently though, he'd been spot-on. Steve was holding his hand out to C.J., clearly asking the boy to come with him. Lou, doing the same with Charlie. However, the men were being blatantly ignored and both looked rather ... flustered. Danny raised an eyebrow as his son got to his feet, plastic shovel in hand. Charlie almost rudely tapped the badge he had on his boardies before holding his hand out to C.J.

Apparently his son was taking his role as protector to new heights.

To Danny's growing sense of horror, C.J. actually took Charlie's hand. A pulse-beat began to throb painfully inside Danny's head. He couldn't hide his embarrassed grimace as Charlie took off, C.J. in tow, the two running purposefully through the shallows. Charlie was evading Steve like a pro while running barefoot through the shallows, water spraying in all directions, Danny's badge glinting in the sun. In desperation, Steve went into slightly deeper water, trying to head the boys off towards Lou. Scarcely a second later though, C.J. was breaking away from Charlie and running in the opposite direction much to Lou's chagrin as the older man waved his arms over his head, worrying loudly about getting the soft cast wet.

"I gather that's your son?" Emily asked. There was hint of a new smile in her voice - a clear sense of amusement - and Danny glanced her way. Emily was shading her face from the sun with one hand, staring hard at the scene down by the water's edge. She was inhaling the tableau; digesting and evaluating what she was seeing. And while her eyes might have been filled with tears at the sight of her nephew, her lips were twitching upwards.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Charlie ... that's my boy." He blinked against the glare, ignoring how his headache ramped up when he watched Charlie pound through the waves with a fearless abandon. His own 5-0 badge was almost merrily bouncing along on his son's hip. When Steve dodged left to intercept him and missed again, Danny didn't know what to do. To say he was stunned by the break in behavior, was an understatement.

"He's ... fast," Bernfeld commented with a small laugh. "Wow. They don't seem too keen on coming in now, do they?"

"Oh, oh. No, they certainly do not," Danny breathed out under his breath as Charlie evaded Steve for a third time and C.J. ducked past Lou with ease. Both boys were giggling. It wasn't that Danny could hear them; he certainly couldn't because he was too far away. He simply could tell that they were by the gleeful expressions on their young faces.

_Nope_, his plans with Steve about coordinating a controlled meet and greet were now most definitely out the window. He pointed to the boys and then shrugged apologetically when Emily looked at him, her eyes big and round, her expression one of surprise. Maybe even disbelief.

"I don't see baths in our immediate future," Danny remarked dryly to Emily and Bernfeld. "I mean ... believe me ... this isn't what we had in mind."

As soon as he said that, Steve tripped in the water only to fall flat on his ass and Danny literally choked in surprise. The sound turned into a bubble which seemed to get stuck somewhere inside his chest. He knuckled his sternum to prevent what might be a hysterical note from bursting out of his mouth. He failed though. There was no way he could hold it back. When Steve struggled to his feet, soaked to the skin, his hair streaming water, clothes saturated, Danny began to laugh. He simply couldn't help it when C.J. only stopped long enough to make sure Steve got to his feet before he was off once more, splashing through water up to his knees. Utterly helpless to the cause, Danny gestured grandly towards the chaos below them.

"Emily ... there he is ... there's C.J. As soon as the ex-SWAT Commander and ex-Navy SEAL corral him, I'd be thrilled to let him know that you're here."

Flanked by each person, Danny heard Emily unexpectedly giggle just as Bernfeld let go with a loud, pleased chuckle of his own.

"Thought you said Conor was afraid of water, Em?" Bernfeld asked his client teasingly. Hands on his hips as he watched the game of 'catch me if you can', the investigator's eyes were sparkling.

"Terrified... Conor is terrified of water. I mean ... he looks ... he's not ... he _is_," Emily tried to say before giving up. She looked at Danny just once before going back to watching her nephew make another mad-dash, this time back towards Charlie. "He's happy ...he's ... _laughing_."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	27. Chapter 27

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"Wait, wait, wait! Get over here!" Steve laughed the words out as he finally captured one of the renegade six year olds. "Whoa buddy! Hold up!"

He fell to his knee, still in the water with his hands firmly wrapped around C.J.'s upper arms. They were both laughing now, even Steve, though his frustration demanded that he reprimand both of the boys. It would have been the wrong thing to do though. This was more than the boys not wanting to go inside from having fun; Charlie ..._ God, Charlie,_ Steve thought to himself, smirking about the look on the kid's face. He was all kinds of Danny wrapped up in a tiny bundle of determination. The way he'd squared off his shoulders and tapped his father's badge had been nothing short of mind-boggling.

Then there was the way C.J. had followed Charlie into the water. _That_ had happened so quickly, Steve wasn't even sure what silent cue he'd missed!

"We have to go in," Steve spoke slowly, not daring to release his hold since Lou was still having one or two last minute objections from a giggling Charlie. "We do." Under his hands, C.J. was quivering but with a newly discovered sense of excitement. With a smile from ear to ear, gone were the earlier tears. Long gone. This was suddenly a new little boy: fearless and for the first time Steve had seen him, truly having a good time.

"_Fun_!" C.J. tried to sign, awkwardly using both hands as best he could, leaving Steve to grin as his private summation was validated.

"I bet that was fun!" He said not needing to sign a thing right then. God help him now, Steve didn't want to ruin any of this either; adults and schedules be damned for once. He knew they were being watched. He had one eye on the three distant shapes standing on his lanai. With proof of their arrival, his stress factor had gone from an uncomfortable mid range to something painfully off the charts. They could wait though, at least for a few more minutes. Refusing to let that stress leak in and refusing to acknowledge that he might be being just a little bit selfish, Steve needed to enjoy the moment. Keeping gentle hold of one arm, Steve rolled his eyes dramatically and then tapped his own chest before pointing to C.J.

"_You_ are fast!" He said out loud with an exaggerated swipe of a hand across his brow, smiling when C.J.'s breathy laugh increased again. "Too _fast_!"

Steve smiled as he soaked in C.J.'s happiness. His eyes couldn't have been more clear and bright. To think that the likes of Billy Travers might have intentionally ruined all of this? Steve didn't dare go there now.

"But, we still have to go in," he said with a meaningful look. As a bead of water dripped from C.J.'s damp hair to roll down his cheek, Steve sobered a bit more. He stopped to thumb a few more stray droplets of water from C.J.'s forehead. He had a bad feeling as he sensed more movement on his lanai. He was wasting time, taking too long, and he knew it. Their special guests were on edge; internalizing their impatience. Danny was probably fielding question after question. He and Lou should have had the boys well in hand and ready despite their antics. Nevertheless Steve dawdled even longer as he ran his fingers through the boy's damp hair, patting it into some kind of rather hopeless shape, getting lost for a moment or two until it was C.J. whose smile faltered.

'_Okay?_', C.J. signed using a very simple thumbs-up, sensitive to Steve's doting.

"Yup," Steve said out loud while nodding at the same time. "It's good ... it's almost time for your_ birthday ... party,_" he added as he tried to regain that lighter mood for the boy's sake which worked well enough as C.J. nodded in excitement.

"Good! Are you ready then?" he asked next before he kissed C.J.'s forehead, gently smiling when the little boy eagerly nodded again. He was fighting though to completely stifle a wave of sadness. Pensive despite his best efforts, Steve briefly dropped his eyes down to the water, watching as it caught the sun, glimmers of light sparkling around his knee.

It was time. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay there. There wasn't a reason to delay the inevitable. Purposefully dragging in a breath of air, Steve gently turned C.J. towards the shore and pointed towards the house. To the figures standing outside watching them.

"_Look_. Do you know her ... that _girl_?" Steve both said and signed while on one knee, the water gently lapping around them. "Do you know her - the _girl_?" He made a fist and angled it to run his thumb along his jawline from back to front, ending at his chin. C.J. watched Steve's hand. Standing within the protective circle of Steve's body, his good hand anchored on his shoulder, he followed Steve's finger to where he was pointing. He was still smiling, still relaxed, but a seriousness had come over his expression. Steve waited as C.J. studied the shapes and then looked back at him, clearly unsure of what to do or think, or maybe uncertain of what to say.

"Maybe?" Steve coached softly. "Do you think you might know her?" He patiently tapped near his eye and then pointed to the woman in the sunny-colored dress. To his better trained eye, Emily Gardner was tight with tension but dutifully biding her time. She was standing next to Danny. The two were now off the lanai and on the grassy expanse before the beach. Bernfeld was further back and in the shadows, apparently worried about frightening the boy until he could offer a better apology for his blunder in the hospital. The investigator was smart and attentive to every detail, things which Steve had to appreciate.

The adults were poised and waiting. According to Angela Marcos, this time was solely for C.J.; not even for Emily Gardner. Everyone knew and accepted that even if each of them were wracked with personal anxieties for very similar reasons. Though he was dying inside as C.J. lost his smile to stare even harder at his aunt, Steve did the right things as he rubbed a circle on C.J.'s back. He continued to point towards the young woman in the yellow dress, gently encouraging but not pushing or prodding. Waiting as calmly as he could to see what might happen. And as it did, Steve got a first-hand view when that recognition struck.

Of course, C.J. had been told about his aunt but as Danny had so wisely explained, saying something and seeing it were two entirely different things. The birthday cake had been the first clue as to the truth of such a statement and now this. Really _seeing_ his aunt after months and months of separation was another. This time though and unlike the cake, C.J.'s look was one of genuine joy and Steve felt his heart nearly break in half.

_'My aunt ...,'_ C.J. signed excitedly with his good hand, looking at Steve with big brown eyes and a smile that once again wouldn't quit. He tapped at Steve's shoulder excitedly, much like he'd tapped at the kitchen counter when he'd so wanted to see his birthday cake. His smile was radiant and Steve had to smile, too - he also had to keep doing the right thing - so he kept pointing towards Emily Gardner.

'_Yes_,' Steve signed, rocking his fist back and forth while nodding. "Your _aunt_." He signed back those two words which he knew. Then he gave C.J. another little encouraging push to un-glue him from his body.

"Go see her!" Steve said out loud, his heart sinking as C.J. left his side. His smile dwindled to nothing as he watched the boy. C.J. started out at a slow walk, some leftover caution guiding his feet, but he began a fast childish-trot when Emily crouched down in the grass. She'd come closer to the verge of grass and beach and Steve could see her features. He could see that she was smiling but also sobbing. Arms outstretched and silently begging C.J. to come to her, in one hand, she had an over-worn, stuffed animal. A keepsake - a toy - and Steve held his breath as C.J. paused mid-flight still on wet sand, briefly transfixed.

He signed something then, fast and furious. Using his left hand, C.J. clearly patted his splayed fingers on his hip. To Steve, it looked as if he might be calling someone or something to him. Steve didn't know what it meant but Emily Gardner certainly did because she waggled the floppy-limbed thing and copied the same finger sign. A few other signs followed from C.J. most of which Steve missed, but one he did understand and Steve bit back a grimace. The sign for _aunt_ was unmistakable. As Steve watched, Emily burst out laughing, wiping her tears away with the side of her arm. She nodded, before signing something back just as quickly. There was another short flurry of near silent conversation because Emily was half-speaking the words ... Steve could see her mouth moving ... and then without stopping ... C.J. was in her arms.

Steve felt all the color draining from his face as Emily Gardner simply sat down in the grass, pretty dress and all with C.J. propped on her lap, the toy squashed between them. C.J. was happy. There was no sign of fear or stress and Steve should be there, too. He was rooted in the water though, still on one knee and unsure if he knew how to stand up. Within seconds, the two were in deep conversation even as Emily showered her nephew with affection, kissing his face, running her fingers through his hair. Clearly wanting to know about his hurt arm ... laughing over his too-long hair.

_It was over._ Steve could feel it.

He hadn't wanted to believe that this could happen. He'd privately assumed some very different reunion and he'd been incredibly wrong. Steve knew then that Bernfeld's raw warning had been equally as honest.

_Emily was good people. She loved her nephew and was able to provide a loving home. She could meet his special needs and C.J. would remember, know and be safe with her. To question - or to try and change that dynamic - would be pure folly._

As he dragged himself to his feet and then to the beach, he thought he was going to be physically sick.

"Steve."

He closed his eyes at the soft sound of Danny's voice behind him. Danny'd barely said his name, but Steve heard him and read all the same damned emotions he was also conveying. Danny was just as upset. Just as devastated.

"Steve. Breathe." But he didn't think he could so he did the next best thing. He leaned backwards just enough to capture his partner's supportive warmth. He nearly caved in when he felt Danny's hand on the small of his back, anchoring him.

"It's good," Steve half-whispered. He sounded overly loud to his own ear, his voice strained and hoarse. "This is good, right?"

"Yeah. And it's going to be all right," Danny said.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	28. Chapter 28

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_Thank you patient people! I couldn't get this where I wanted it to be for the longest time. Un-dying thanks to Phoebe for extraordinary patience and "kicks in the bottom" when dealing with my frustration these last few days and advising that finding the right tactic basically had to play itself out._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

C.J. rested his head on Steve's shoulder, getting comfortable as the man settled on the sofa, new book in hand. The book was one of many wrapped inside a brightly colored birthday present given to him by Jerry, who worked with Steve and Danny. C.J. didn't know Jerry very well, but the man was big like Santa Claus and funny. He'd also gotten C.J. some of the best super hero books and toys that C.J. had ever, ever seen. And then there had been ice cream and that really big birthday cake. All chocolate - all the way through - and he had seven candles to make a wish on: six for how old he was and one for good luck! He had made his very own special birthday wish which still counted even if Charlie had helped him blow out the candles, too.

Feeling very important from all the attention , CJ scooted closer as Steve tucked his arm around him and then opened the book to the first page. Truthfully and because he was six years old now -_ a big boy_ \- the little Golden Book might have been a bit too babyish for C.J., but with Captain America on its cover, he liked it just the same.

Besides, it was really his to keep. Given to him _special_ for the first birthday he could ever remember.

And after this book, he had three more picture books plus comic books with all the Avengers … and more coloring books with so, so many crayons and markers. The gifts had kept coming and C.J. couldn't remember ever having so much to play with; even Charlie was excited over some of the comic books which C.J. was more than happy to share.

As Steve began to read, C.J. placed the flat of his palm on Steve's chest as he done before. He liked the way he could feel the thrum of Steve's voice through his body while also being able to feel the words through his hand. He didn't need to try and read Steve's lips or even try to really read the words on the page. It was all good enough to feel and listen just like this while he looked at the pictures. But as Steve began to read, C.J. was peeking over the top of the book. His aunt was with Danny in the kitchen. They were cleaning up because Danny still looked sick and his aunt wanted to help. He thought that was nice but he was feeling funny inside his tummy not only because his Aunt Emily kept looking at him, but because the CPS lady was there, too. C.J. had gotten scared all over again when the CPS lady showed up for his party and he just knew that something big was going to happen again.

As he watched his aunt dry a cake plate, their eyes met and she smiled at him. She blew him a kiss and C.J.'s lips twitched upwards, but he didn't really smile back. She was very very happy to see him and C.J. knew that she loved him _forever_. Aunt Emily had said that to him on the beach before the party. She'd made a big finger sign and pointed to him, pulling him into a hug. He loved her too and was so happy to see her again, but there were two people at his party that were making him just a little bit scared.

The man who had tried to take a picture of him in the hospital and now, the lady who might take him away after all. C.J. hadn't been too happy to see them at his birthday party.

Steve had promised the man had only made a mistake in the hospital and his Aunt Emily had tried to explain the same thing. The man had smiled at him kindly and C.J. had tried to smile back, but kept his distance. He didn't understand why the CPS lady was there either. She had brought him a teddy bear that he had put next to Lion, his police toy. No one said that he had to leave with her. And now she was in the kitchen too and helping to clean up, but that could be a trick and anything could still happen. His eyes skittered around from one to the other and he was now only half-listening to Steve read his new book. He made a face because thinking about what might happen gave him a bad feeling inside his tummy. A feeling that sort of made him feel sick or even like crying ...and he didn't want to cry anymore.

_'Hey.'_ CJ looked up at Steve when Steve tapped his knee. '_Are you okay? Look_,' Steve said out loud, speaking slow enough for CJ to understand. He pointed near his eye and then tapped the book while speaking.

'_It's Captain America! This book? It's a good book! Jerry did good!'_

Squishing down closer to Steve, he nodded. He was good with Steve and Steve or Danny would tell him if something scary was going to happen. He traced his fingers over the page, tapping at Captain America's shield. This _was_ a really good book and he had said thank you over and over again to Jerry. Jerry had been so happy that C.J. liked his presents so much. He'd smiled a lot and then said you're welcome and happy birthday, managing only to sign _you're welcome_ the right way. It didn't matter though because C.J. understood. His birthday got even better when Jerry let him wear his badge around his neck, too. So then he and Charlie both had badges to play with … at least during the party.

C.J. paused to trace the badge where it hung around his neck. Jerry said that he could wear it all day – until he had to go home. It made him feel better and he held it tight in his fist as he went back to looking at the book as Steve turned the first page. He smiled and nodded when Steve stopped long enough to give him a shaka sign.

_Captain America was strong and fast_ … and C.J. thought, Steve was a lot like Captain America when he saved him from the bad boat with the bad men. He had been super big when he had opened the closet door. Instead of a shield, Steve had had a big knife, but it was almost the same thing. It was good enough for C.J.! Grinning bigger when the next page showed Captain America running so fast, C.J. pointed to the super hero. Then he pointed to Steve, tapping him excitedly on the chest before pointing once more to Captain America.

_Steve was like Captain America! _

'_Me_? _Noooooo_!' Steve said. His eyes were big and he looked surprised, so C.J. nodded again, signing '_yes'_!

He felt Steve laugh out loud and then he must have said something to Danny because Danny came out of the kitchen with Aunt Emily next to him. Holding the book high in the air so that Danny could see the same picture, he pointed to himself and then down to CJ.

_'This is me … I'm like Captain America!'_ Steve said the words out loud while trying to point and sign every other word. _'C.J. said so … so I am!'_

Steve was beaming and laughing even more when Danny's mouth dropped open, his eyes huge.

_'You so are not!'_ Danny said. _'No! No way!'_

He said something else too that C.J. didn't understand at all - a big word - before folding his arms tightly across his chest. But if C.J. didn't understand, Steve sure did. His Aunt Emily did too because then she was laughing and looking at Danny. C.J. grinned when he felt Steve laughing even harder while Danny shook his head at him, with a silly look on his face.

This time, Danny signed '_no'_ again and then gave C.J. a big thumbs-down sign. A really big one - using both hands - until they were all giggling and laughing at each other.

**H5O* H5O**

"Are you all right with this ... with you know ... the book?" Danny asked. He forgot about Captain America almost immediately. He'd seen the look in Emily's eyes when C.J. had opted to ask Steve to read his new book to him instead of her. Danny didn't know what they'd do if she said no. But of course she didn't. Quickly hiding that tinge of hurt in her eyes, the young woman continued to smile.

"He thinks your partner is a super hero. Maybe he is," Emily replied, still laughing. She shrugged off her nephew's choice, her smile deepening even more. "It's his birthday! Of course I'm okay with everything, Danny ... he's so happy. I've never seen him this happy."

Her warm tone indicated that she was being very genuine and Danny willed himself to relax. Though things had gone well, there had been a few times when he'd sensed an awkward competition for the boy's attentions. A subtle feeling not exactly of resentment, but more of personal injury. The adults were on tenterhooks at times even if outwardly, they appeared as if they'd all known each other forever.

"Okay," Danny said though he lost his own smile. He carefully rolled his shoulders in a vain attempt to ease the uncomfortable ache at the base of his skull. It didn't work at all. He felt lousy and nausea was creeping back in. He was well beyond due for his meds and at minimum, to be off his feet, relaxing. He turned back into the kitchen, wanting to focus on the distraction of cleaning up the table, but instead he walked over to the sink, bowed his head and braced himself against the counter. How he was feeling was more than just due to physical injuries. He was teetering on an emotional ledge. If he'd appeared to be more stoic than Steve about C.J. and his advice, that's all it had been: an appearance. With Emily right there in person, her intentions quite clear about her progression of next steps, Danny's mood had plummeted. He'd lost his ability to stay professional and act ... removed. He couldn't afford to lose himself though with everyone else's emotions so high.

He could do this; he could.

He startled when Emily was suddenly at his side, her hand placed lightly on his back in a comforting gesture.

"Danny? Why do I feel like I should be apologizing instead of thanking you right now?" Emily asked him softly. "You ... and Steve?" He knew the question was rhetorical. Emily was smart and savvy. She knew people almost as well as he did and wasn't running a successful global corporation as a mere joke. Danny obviously had never known her sister, Marjorie. But as twins? Genetically they might have been perfect matches - one whole to another whole. However, he could guarantee - hands down- they'd been as different as night and day.

"I don't know," he replied anyway though he wasn't obligated to. He closed his eyes and let his head hang lower. They both knew the answer to Emily's question; and if Emily didn't know the true extent of what Steve and Danny had planned, she at least sensed something deeper. Their adult situation was as plain as the nose on their individual faces.

Emily sighed softy under her breath, her hand still warm on his back. Danny knew she was about to state their obvious conundrum and she didn't disappoint.

"You'd have to be a fool not to see how happy Conor is here. You've both given him a safe and loving sanctuary. So, I _am_ sorry. I'm sorry because I need to take him home, Danny, and I know that you're going to miss him. Your son is going to miss him. But he's my nephew and I love him ... I promised him that I'd always be there and take care of him. I let him down once and I won't allow it to happen again."

Eyes still closed, Danny nodded at her earnest words. He completely understood and he had no right to stand in her way which was the unspoken plea in her voice. But if she was verbalizing her stance, then he damned well would do the same. Unmoving from where he was propped up against the counter, eyes closed in concentration as he strongly edited his words, Danny shared his own feelings.

"That first time we found him ... and your sister," Danny began quietly. "I think Steve and I fell in love with that little guy the minute we saw him standing alone and so afraid in that damned convenience store bathroom. He was terrified ... and trying so hard to be brave. He knew his mother was in trouble and he didn't know what to do. He also didn't know who to trust."

"You wanted to keep him safe," Emily said. She had tears in her voice. "And you did that; you did more than just that and that's where I will always thank you."

"No. It's ... bigger. What happened in that convenience store? This was never just another case for us; your sister ... and C.J. became ... _more_ and we _vowed_ to find out what had happened. We promised to keep him safe," Danny amended her words, knowing that Angela Marcos was standing there and listening. The child advocate would agree with everything he said next.

"We pulled strings to make sure he didn't fall into the system; that he had the best possible care. That he would be protected, feel loved and above everything else, really be safe. We thought we were being careful but we missed Travers and that's on us ..."

"I don't agree! You couldn't have known about _him_," Emily interrupted, her tone suddenly filled with venom. "_That_ is not on you ... _he_ is not on you ... you still don't know _him_ the way I do."

"No, maybe not," Danny said with a rueful laugh. "I guess we got a good taste of what the man's capable of though."

He could stop right there and not say another word. However, Danny shook his head at the helplessness of his internal argument to stay quiet versus continuing to speak his mind. He should just keep his damned mouth shut because the writing was on the wall. What would telling Emily all of this really accomplish? Nevertheless, the latter half of his aching brain was winning, making him emotional, and that half kicked harder to make him get it all out in the open. Inhaling deeply, Danny pushed himself off the counter to blearily look at Emily and then simply stated the truth of it all.

"Emily, like I said, we fell in love with C.J. along the way. We thought before we knew about you and who he really was, that we might be able to make C.J. part of our family ... he and Steve especially have this connection. You can see that, I'm sure."

"You ... you thought you'd be able to _keep_ him?" Emily whispered more in awe than in blame or anger or even resentment.

"Even Charlie thought he'd have a new brother," Danny found himself admitting, smiling gently at the recent memory. "He asked. He offered to share his room."

Emily's eyes got larger, as did Angela Marcos' eyes. The CPS agent was listening in with avid interest. And he wondered if he was making an epic error in judgment when both women didn't utter a single word. But even if this accomplished little, what would it actually hurt to get this all out on the table? They all needed to be very honest with each other even if… well, there was no _if_… Emily went back to the states with C.J.

"You and Steve wanted to adopt him," Emily murmured softly, thoughtfully. "I ... I don't think I know what to say."

"We had started to talk about it. Before we knew ... we had nothing to go on ... no names," Danny explained quickly. "We were still looking to I.D. your sister; figure out where she'd come from ... find anyone who knew either her or C.J. Of course we were doing all of that legwork before Mitch got here. But I need to be honest that we had our hopes. That's all."

"Does C.J. know?" She asked. "Does he know what you were thinking about doing?"

"No," Danny replied with a shake of his head. "When Charlie asked me - it came out of Left-field. I never expected the question and I honestly think it was just Charlie asking. I told him the truth: that we were still looking for C.J.'s family. He accepted the answer and didn't bring it up again; hell, I haven't even told Steve what Charlie asked in the first place! And I can honestly tell you, too, that neither Steve nor I have mentioned anything like this to the boys. All we have ever tried to do is to make C.J. feel safe and loved."

She stood there quietly when he was done speaking, her expression hard to read. Her ongoing silence left Danny completely uncertain of where they stood. But when she did finally say something, she surprised him.

"I was wrong then," she laughed more to herself, her hand over her mouth, her eyes watering. Behind her, Danny noticed Angela Marcos sneaking out of the kitchen so they could talk in private.

"Wrong?" He dared to ask.

"Yes. On both counts," Emily replied. "Wrong because saying thank you isn't near enough. And apologizing? I don't know if an apology even makes sense. My sister made the best thing she ever could in her life and still, she would have thrown her child away for money and drugs; for an evil, evil man. She might have loved Conor in her own way, but I can't even say that without it sounding ... false. I tried to keep Conor safe for years and then lost him in the dead of night. Mitch was looking for them for months and every exciting lead became a horrible dead end. After all this time, I expected to find a broken, ruined little boy, Danny. Instead I found a healthy, happy, loving child. How can I just say thank you when you and Steve didn't only keep Conor safe ... you _made_ him whole? How can I just apologize for needing to take him away when you would have been so willing to bring him into your family?"

"But you're still going to take him," Danny stated softly. "I know you are and he deserves that. He deserves you - and Emily, we would never fight you for him; I just had to say all of this out loud. We needed you to know."

"I know," she whispered. "I get it. I do." She shook her head not knowing what to say for a minute, a soft laugh warring with a choked sob. There were tears of understanding in her eyes when she stepped closer to him, her arms drawing him into a hug. "I know and thank you ... but he deserves you both, too."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	29. Chapter 29

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_ Nearing time to wrap up ... hold on tight, some of this isn't going to be very pretty. It's never a good thing when the muse cries; including the usually evil sabre-toothed breakfast bunny._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny wanted Jerry to stop, but once the man felt his information was valuable and that he had an avid audience, shutting him up _nicely_ was difficult, if not impossible. The bigger issue too was that oftentimes Jerry lacked a self-edit button and he was treading on remarkably sensitive ground. So even though Danny also ignorant to much of this particular intel and secretly wanted to hear more, he wished that Jerry would find a way to either change subject or simple, keep his mouth shut.

He really wished that the FBI's call to Lou Grover fifteen minutes earlier about the identification of another innocent six-year old boy found on Billy Travers' devices from the boat, hadn't happened. Though Lou had immediately left the room to discuss the situation in private, Steve at his shoulder, it had been enough. Reference to the subject had prompted Emily Gardner's current line of questioning. And Danny had quickly learned that the woman was tenacious.

"How much?" Emily Gardner asked and Danny's jaw dropped at the audacity of the question. "How much were they asking?"

"Excuse me," Danny tried to interrupt. "Is this really necessary? Especially now?" He hadn't seen that one coming and this time, Jerry did give pause at least. They all looked at Emily, all conversation grinding to a slow halt. She held her ground, her eyes landing back on Jerry last, her tone rather severe considering the pleasant tenor of the day.

"Tell me," Emily demanded. Though her face was pale and she might have been even surprising herself with her boldness, her voice rang clear as she re-stated the same question. "Jerry. What was his price?"

Danny glanced uneasily towards Mitch Bernfeld and their eyes met. The private investigator had been holding a quiet conversation in the corner of the living room with Angela Marcos. By the look on his face, he also didn't like his client's line of questioning now that the boys had left the room to play. Angela Marcos merely seemed confused and had likely missed the gist of things. Danny looked meaningfully at Bernfeld, his unspoken request clear, but he didn't stop her. Not once despite the conflicted look on his face.

"A lot," Jerry reluctantly replied. He caught Danny's warning glare next and lost his train of thought entirely, stammering badly and backpedaling. "I ... I mean, you know ... it's ..."

"I want a number. I'm sure there was a number, Mr. Ortega," Emily interrupted and then coaxed him far too sweetly, making Danny grimace in discomfort when she dropped Jerry's first name entirely. "Wasn't there some kind of reference ... a nice, whole round number that might have been mentioned on the dark web?"

"Yeah," Jerry was forced to admit. He nodded and began to stare blindly at the floor. "His handicap is … was … well, to say it frankly, it's … well, the fact that he can't _hear_…."

"Or _speak_," Emily interrupted again. "Say it Mr. Ortega. He has desirable traits. He's a beautiful child. Dark hair, the right build and sweet eyes. The perfect age. But the fact that he's deaf and can't speak? Well, those were selling points to some sick, demonic …" Her voice rose at the same time the cadence of her speech increased.

Groaning as that shrillness pierced the ache in his head, Danny scrubbed vainly at his face. He wasn't prepared to handle the outburst.

"Emily, that's enough," Mitch finally did cut her off. "Now's not the time." He got to his feet and then sat back down, apparently not knowing where to put himself. He looked both apologetic and duly upset by revisiting what had happened to C.J. just the day before. "This isn't helping."

"I'm not looking to _help_ a damned thing! I just want to know all of it!" She spat back. Her eyes challenged each of them. "None of you know the whole truth! _He_ hits Conor for _signing_ – I've seen _him_ smack his hands if that child so much as asks for a toy or a simple drink of water. I want _him_ put away, the key thrown away ... actually, and anyone like _him_!"

She pinned Jerry with a stern look, daring to go back to her original question; insisting upon a hard number. Almost mesmerized by this tougher version of the young woman, Danny could easily envision her on a Board room floor. Giving orders, making demands ... Emily Gardner was no corporate figurehead. It was apparent that she'd earned her role in spades as she stood up to hover over Jerry Ortega.

"Answer my question. How much did _he_ think _he_ could get for Conor? At least tell me, what was the bidding set to start at?"

Danny heard her. He clearly heard her repeat the question, but his brain had stayed stuck on one other fact. He was shocked. Stunned really. So much so, that he found himself interrupting the scene being played out in front of him.

"I'm sorry. What did you say before? Did you say that Billy Travers actually hit C.J. for signing?" Danny couldn't grasp any single part of that happening at all. "But he needs to _talk_ …it's the only way he can really talk." It didn't compute in Danny's head at all. When Emily looked at him, her expression almost sympathetic, Danny felt the color drain from his face. His head throbbed even more.

_Billy Travers hit his son? Hit his hands - those small fingers - when he tried to ask for something? _Danny felt his heart twist inside his chest as he thought about C.J.'s injured wrist and the new bruises on his hand. His dominant _right_ hand and that pain inside turned to a hot rage.

"He reprimanded him for signing?" Danny repeated.

"He did," Emily confirmed. "He was ... embarrassed by his defective kid. And I don't doubt that he might have done it before Commander McGarrett was able to find them yesterday." Near them, Angela Marcos gasped quietly in shock. When Danny glanced her way, her eyes were shining. His own anger simmered just beneath the surface. But if Steve knew? If Steve knew what Travers might have done on top of the boy's sprain, Danny had zero doubt that he'd kill the felon.

"The bidding?" Emily's head had swiveled back towards Jerry. "And?" The woman refused to back down. Emily Gardner would put any single one of them to shame in their own rendition room. After months and months of worry, she was justifiably upset, furious really and finally the dam had given way. Jerry glanced worriedly towards Danny and then looked at his feet.

"The opening bid was $25,000 Euro which is roughly …"

"Just a bit over $28,000 U.S.," Emily ended the sentence for him. Her sarcastic laugh was short and sharp. "Not a bad start for an innocent six year old little child. That maniac probably thought he'd double that amount. I think I'm going to be sick."

"I think you need to stop now, Em. You really don't need to know all of it," Mitch said. "You don't. He's done and you heard Captain Grover. The FBI is closing in on the rest."

"How many others though?" She pushed after swallowing hard, blatantly ignoring Mitch's advice. "One? Two? Twenty?"

"Mitch is right; we're done here at least for now. This isn't the time nor the place; and it's getting late. We're all tired," Danny interjected. He rubbed at his forehead again, unconsciously tracing the livid bruises on his chin. Tired was an understatement. Emily might have been growing overwrought; he was mentally distressed and physically, beginning to flag. When he realized the room had gone entirely quiet, he peered up, wincing through the dull ache at the base of his skull. They were each looking at him and he frowned, confused.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing, Detective. I didn't mean to push so hard. I'm sorry and I understand," Emily said more softly. "Tomorrow then. If possible and when the time is right, I'd like to know more about what happened to my sister. Please."

Danny nodded, sighing under his breath in relief.

"I need to go," Jerry suddenly announced. "I have a few things to follow up on. Laters." Danny raised an eyebrow as the large man bobbled an awkward good-bye to everyone, but didn't say a word as Jerry beat a hasty retreat.

"You're all very right ... it is late," Emily noted. She waved her hand towards the bedrooms where they could hear the faint sounds of the boys playing together. Danny listened a bit harder. He could hear Charlie at least, his nonstop patter a sweet antithesis to their more serious conversation. Emily's next words wiped any potential smile from his face though. Once again, blind-sided, he should have anticipated what Emily expected far in advance.

"Can you help me get his things together?" Emily asked. "I haven't even checked into my hotel yet; but we can do that easily enough. We can all go and you can have your house back to yourselves." She meant well with no ulterior motives and yet Danny was dumbstruck. His mouth opened and then closed. He should have _expected_ this, too, and yet, he was floored. He didn't know what to say or do at all.

"Is that a problem?" Emily asked, reading his expression for what it was. "I mean of course we have to go, right? I mean ... it's why I'm here." Though he had been honest with her earlier about his and Steve's feelings towards C.J., his current lack of response unsettled her and they stared at each other, the air in the room once more full of tension. How could they be on the same page and yet _not_, all at the same time?

"Danny?"

"No. No, of course not," he pushed out, struggling to his feet.

"What are we talking about?" Steve suddenly asked, appearing in the doorway to the living room. He'd instantly sensed something off and his eyes held a guarded look. "Everything all right?"

"I was just saying that we should be leaving. It's late and we're all tired," Emily restated for his benefit. "Mitch, Conor and myself ... we can see each other tomorrow ... follow up on whatever we need to before I take Conor home."

"Now?" Steve blurted the word and glanced at Danny, clearly as shocked as Danny had been. "You want to take him now?"

"The way you _said_ that," Emily said uncomfortably. "It almost like ..."

"Might I make a few suggestions?" The social worker interrupted. Angela Marcos' voice was soothing and calm; her timing perfect. "To make this easier on C.J., I'd like to suggest a slower transition. Taking him tonight could be problematic. Even traumatic."

"Traumatic?!" Emily objected, her eyes showing her disapproval of the word. "Why-ever would leaving tonight be a problem?"

"It's not a problem. It's not," Angela said soothingly, nodding towards the birthday presents and the still half-decorated kitchen as proof. "I want us to all be very careful. He's had a wonderful day and finds this house familiar. He's comfortable here and happy; he probably isn't expecting to leave - though on some level, he might know that something is bound to happen. None of us have actually said it though and I'm worried. I'm suggesting caution around where and how he gets to know you again."

"Gets to know me again?" Emily frowned and shook her head. "He knows me ... but I'm not sure that I know what _you_ are talking about. Angela what are you asking me to do exactly?"

"Humor me; let's try something. Ask him first," Angela said. "Ask him - be prepared to ease things slowly forward - and if he says no or seems upset, please reconsider taking him to a hotel tonight. As you all do, I've only his best interests in mind and in my experience, a child of his age, coupled with what he's been through? He's going to need some time and patience in order to find his footing again - family or not. I'm only suggesting and requesting that you take things slow ... I'm not demanding it."

"It's true. We haven't told him," Danny admitted softly. "None of us have explained things to him. Not in so many words."

Emily stared at him quietly, thoughtfully. "You're right. He only knew that I was coming. So, I'll ask him," she said. "I'll ask him now. I'll find a way."

Worried, Danny got his feet as Emily aimed herself towards the bedrooms. He looked towards Steve who had yet to say another word. Danny could read his eyes though and much as he was, Steve was stricken by the very concept of Emily taking her nephew this soon.

"Conor? Charlie?" There was no time to discuss things though and Danny was on Emily's heels as she entered the boy's bedroom. The two were playing on a toy-strewn floor, Charlie's chatter the only real sound in the room.

Crouching down to be more on their level, Emily tapped her chest and then pointed to her nephew, patiently signing and speaking at the same time. She tapped her watch, her demeanor calm, her smile genuine.

"How do you feel about you and I going to go the hotel together? Tonight?' Would that be okay?" she asked and signed. "We can come back tomorrow ... ?"

Eyes growing wider by the second, C.J. dropped the toy he was playing with. He stared at her face and then slowly shook his head from side to side.

'_No ... no. No_,' he signed. _'Here. With Charlie.'_ He pointed to himself and then to Charlie.

"But it could be fun ... the hotel," Emily both signed and said out loud. She pointed to herself and then gently tapped his chest again. She took a deep breath, changing her position to sit on the floor, legs folded under her. She took his hand in her own.

"We can take your presents and some chocolate _cake_," she tried to explain. She signed the word _cake_ using the fingers of one hand cupped to touch the open palm of her opposite hand.

Danny knew what those signs meant now. When explained, they made sense and they'd all learned a good many more things over the course of the day. It had been fun and eye-opening; a fun _game_ which had added to everyone's arsenal. None of those things were doing a damned bit of good now though. The more his aunt tried to explain things to him, the more C.J. became upset and the more he dug in all the harder.

As his expression changed, Danny realized with a start that C.J. did understand. He understood all the implications of what his aunt was really saying and Danny glanced towards Angela Marcos. She saw it, too. The social worker was watching closely and measuring the boy's reactions. She didn't seem comfortable with what she was seeing there. At least not yet and he could hedge a bet that she would be sticking to her suggestions for that night.

But Danny's face fell when C.J. looked at Steve next.

"Conor," Emily whispered in surprise, her feelings plainly hurt, as he pulled his hands away from her. Eyes glossy with fresh tears, he blatantly signed '_please'_ and '_no'. _Then, of all things, he held his hand out towards Steve, clearly asking to stay. In the midst of it, Emily looked at Danny, her expression bordering on accusatory and Danny shook his head, at a loss. He'd been honest with her and none of this had been planned.

"It's okay." Danny heard Steve say as his partner automatically stepped forward. However, before Steve could do a thing, it was Angela Marcos who intervened once again.

"Please take my earlier suggestion more seriously," she recommended. "Please. Allow him the time to come to terms with things. He's smart ... he's ... "

"I know. I know of all that. But…," Emily started to object and then stopped cold. She glanced again towards Danny, unsure of what to do or how to continue when C.J. looked at Charlie next. He backed up a full step to stand a bit closer to his friend. His lip trembled even more and Danny was heartbroken to see a lone tear roll down the boy's cheek. He wanted nothing more than to scoop C.J. up, but he didn't dare. This needed to play out and right now, no matter how painful, this conversation was very, very necessary.

"Conor, it's all right," Emily whispered, her hands moving quickly through the air. "Don't _cry_. We can wait. It's okay. I'm sorry."

"It's a lot to ask of him and if no one has really explained things to him? Well ...," Angela added, letting the implications of what she didn't say hang in the air between them all. "Let him enjoy his birthday. He needs to understand what's happening … he needs to come to grips with it. Is there a rush?"

"No, no. Of course not," Emily replied just as softly as she wiped the tears from C.J.'s cheeks. "I just missed him so much and I just assumed he'd _want_ to go."

"He'll be fine with just a little bit more time," Angela said. "It's clear that he loves you, Emily. This is new again though and he's had an exciting day. What he perceives as a little boy is not the same; for you, this is an easy decision. For him? Not so much, and I'm suggesting that you wait a day or even two. Give him a chance to get to know you, talk to him, and give him some time to accept what's coming next."

"So you've said. And I do understand, Angela. I do. I just thought he'd _want_ to go home …," Emily objected.

"No. He wants to be my brother," Charlie suddenly interrupted them. He'd been listening the entire time but his outburst even surprised Danny. "He wants to stay _here_."

"What?!" Steve said, startled by the admission.

"And I want him to be it, too!" Charlie added for good measure. "We _want_ to be brothers!" His eyes flew from Steve to Emily's face and then to Danny's in an instant. "Right Danno? It _is_ possible, right?"

"Charlie ... no," Danny said as he inserted himself into the newly growing fray. He knelt down next to Emily to talk to the two boys. "I know you asked me that question once, but remember I told you that it probably wasn't going to happen. I know you remember that I told you Emily would be coming ... that C.J. already had a family."

"You said you weren't _sure_. You said you didn't _know_," Charlie interrupted him. "It's _different_."

"No, not really," Danny sighed apologetically. "Charlie ... this is hard for everybody." His voice faded away. He ducked his head down, thumbing the space between his eyes, clearly upset by the turn of conversation. He was physically and mentally taxed now; on the verge of a migraine. At once relieved he'd been honest with Emily, he couldn't help but wonder what Steve was thinking as he digested this bit of interesting news for the very first time.

"But it _is_ different, Danno!" Charlie insisted. He looked at Emily and took C.J.'s hand almost stubbornly and to Danny's surprise, Emily smiled. What she said next, surprised him even more though.

"You're a good friend, Charlie," Emily said. Her smile was warm, even tender. "A very good, good friend and I made a mistake. I'm sorry. I am. So yes, C.J.'s going to sleep over in your room."

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, pausing to gather her thoughts and stow her personal feelings. What had just happened proved what they'd discussed earlier together in the privacy of the kitchen. Emily had indeed found a healthy, happy child. They'd done their best to keep him safe and whole. However, and even if she'd allow them an avenue to stay in his life, she was still going to take him away. The only open questions now were when and how bad might the resulting fall-out become.

As he watched in relieved awe, Emily leaned forward. She gently ran her fingers through Charlie's hair. Then she cupped her nephew's face between her hands before kissing his forehead.

"Show me where you sleep," she finger signed to C.J. and spoke out loud for Charlie's sake. "I'd like to see ... is that your bed?"

She plastered a smile to her face, pointed to Charlie's racecar bed and got to her feet. Then, focused on the boys, Emily neatly tried to turn the tide.

**H5O* H5O**

"You okay?" Danny asked in the privacy of their room. They'd checked on the boys at least a dozen times, obsessed with worry even though everyone else had left for the evening, including Emily Gardner. It was undeniably late now. Near two o'clock in the morning. They were exhausted and not feeling well. Shattered mentally and physically. Neither of them could sleep though. He was sitting next to Steve on the side of their bed, intentionally leaning against the taller man's shoulder. Danny could literally feel the sadness leaking off him.

"Is that a real question?" Steve answered truthfully. "Things were starting to come together. It was starting to look like something … like he belonged here. Like he might stay here."

"Like he might belong to you," Danny whispered. He turned his head to gently kiss Steve's shoulder. "But I warned you. Steve, I _warned_ you about this day coming; not that I've done any better because I haven't. In all honesty, I want him to stay, too, and I told Emily as much in the kitchen."

"Correction, Danno. Not that he just belonged to me: more like that he belonged to _us_," Steve amended Danny's words before placing the heels of his palms against both of his eyes. He rocked his elbows on his knees, his face buried now in his hands. His voice was muffled and full of fatigue.

"What do you mean you told her? And when the hell did Charlie speak up about the boys wanting to be brothers? Why didn't you say anything to me?"

The hurt was so tangible, Danny turned on his hip. He tiredly slid off the bed to wind up kneeling in front of Steve. Wrapping his fingers around Steve's neck, Danny gently pulled him closer. He kissed the top of the bowed head.

"I'm sorry," Danny said. "I was going to … there's been no time for just me and you though. And I _am_ sorry about what Charlie asked. He literally just asked me and, in the kitchen earlier, I grabbed an opportunity to speak to Emily in private. I thought it best to be honest with her. To tell her everything about our feelings and our long-term intentions. I thought it was the right thing to do and after what happened tonight, I'm glad that I did."

As he whispered each word, Danny pressed a kiss to Steve's cheekbone, then lower to his jawline, over Steve's fingers when they get in his way, continuing on a very specific path towards the corner of his mouth when Steve peeked up. Taking his opportunity, Danny gently trapped Steve's chin with his fingers, his kisses warm and tender on his lips.

"It's all right," Steve murmured around Danny's careful attentions. "I'm glad you told her. She … took it well. I guess."

"She understands how we feel and she's accepting," Danny confirmed. "Mostly. She had hoped for so much more though with C.J. Which is understandable."

"And ... and she's still going to take him," Steve stated, his tone flat. "That's the end state, isn't it?"

"Yeah and I'm sorry," Danny replied softly. "I am and I feel the same way as you do. And Emily? She understands and sees it; she wants us in his life, Steve and no matter what, I believe her. We _will_ be able to keep in touch with him; make sure he's happy; keep him safe. Okay?"

As Danny quietly spoke that last word,something changed in Steve's eyes and his partner nodded just one time. It meant a number of things. Mostly though that it certainly wasn't okay but, with time, things would be all right and Danny leaned in closer. His nose skimmed Steve's, his eyes just as soft as he paused. Waiting. Asking for a verbal confirmation.

"Yeah. Okay, Danno," Steve murmured as his hand moved to cup Danny's bruised jawline. He ran his thumb over the damaged skin before gently mouthing each bruise, his touch light. Softly and quietly Danny met him. Their touches chaste and soothing to bruised souls and wounded hearts.

"Steve?" Danny stopped to catch his breath, eyes closed, his still aching forehead pressed hard against Steve's temple.

"Yeah, Danno?" Steve paused the warmth of his splayed fingers seeping comfortingly across Danny's chest.

"You will always have us," Danny whispered. He peered up into Steve's face, blurred by his own tears. "Me. Grace. Charlie. _Always_."

Steve choked on his next inhale and Danny leaned up, tasting the mingled salt of their tears on Steve's lips.

"I would die without any one of you," Steve murmured nearly inaudibly, the last syllable breaking in its earnestness so that it could never sound less than what it really meant.

"We belong here … with you. We always have. Always will." Silently to himself, Danny included C.J. despite the impossibility of that truth and his heart twisted in half. They would all heal, but it would take a very, very long time.

As if sensing Danny's thoughts, Steve sighed into Danny's cheek before turning his head to kiss that very same spot. "What the hell are we going to do?" He asked helplessly. Eyes now only partly open, Danny snuggled closer when Steve grappled gently for his fingers

"Everything's going to be all right," Danny whispered as he nudged back against Steve's cheek with his nose, dragging his lips over to Steve's mouth where their kisses became briefly deeper. "We love you. _I _love you."

When Danny finally looked again, peeking upwards to Steve's face, he was being watched. Steve's eyes were darker than Danny had ever seen them. Maybe it was an after-effect of his tears, but then again … maybe no. Lost in the love which he was seeing there, Danny closed his eyes when Steve cupped his face between his hands, his fingers gentle as he traced over the smattering of bruises.

"Me, too," Steve whispered as he kissed Danny's forehead. "I love you, too. Always."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	30. Chapter 30

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_so, here it is. My thanks to all you wonderful readers! It was not an easy task to get here for what has become one of my favorite little characters and AU's. Having said that, I'm not sure this breakfast bunny of mine will let this go just yet. So hang tight even if the below is the last chapter of the core story._

_As I said in the first chapter, C.J had first been a little girl named 'Angela'. As a boy, this sure took off in a different direction (and 22 additional chapters). I HAVE to thank Phoebe for keeping the heart of 'Angela' on track - for finding ways to keep Emily likable as she didn't have even a minor role in 'Angela'. *hugs*_

_And Jazzie - as usual - the bunny runs amok! Thanks for keeping the bunny courageous in ploughing through the differences which were scary indeed. _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

They would be leaving tomorrow for Ohio. C.J. understood that now. It was where he and his mother had come from. It was where the big house was with the pony his Aunt Emily had gotten for his fifth birthday. He hadn't ever met Snickers because his mother had taken them away too soon, but Aunt Emily said that Snickers was still there, waiting for him. As he watched his aunt pack his new suitcase with all of his new clothes and toys, C.J. also understood that his mommy was never coming back. He had cried one more time, sad and frightened sobs while his aunt had held him tight. She had held him and rocked him gently until he'd felt better.

As she packed their things, his aunt asked him to come closer.

_'I like this one,'_ his aunt said and signed pointing between two shirts._ 'Yes or no?'_ One was blue and one was white with yellow stripes. She was pointing to the blue one and he nodded.

Smiling, he signed '_yes_' back to her. He liked that one, too, and would wear for their special dinner with Steve, Danny and Charlie. This would be their last dinner together before he had to go home. He understood that, too and felt his tummy do something funny; it felt like it had turned inside out.

_'Okay, sweetie?'_ His aunt asked him as his smile faltered.

He managed to grin and showed her a shaka sign, which made her laugh.

For almost five whole days, he and Aunt Emily had spent all their time together. They'd gone to the aquarium and gone shopping. He had lots of new things now; more than he could count on both hands. New board-shorts and regular shorts. New sneakers which made him run faster than Charlie and his favorite thing ... a Captain America baseball cap. He'd even gotten his hair cut at the mall, insisting that the man do it a certain way: super short on the sides and long on top. His Aunt Emily hadn't much liked what he wanted, but she'd laughed out loud when they next saw Danny.

_'Your hair ...,'_ his aunt signed now, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and laughing.

C.J. grinned as the long piece of hair on top of his head flopped down over his right eye. He ran his fingers through the long bits, shoving it back into place. He had Danny's haircut but his hair was too thick and wavy and he hadn't figured out how to do it right yet. His hair just wouldn't stay until his aunt used a little bit of her hair spray on it. Something he wasn't allowed to do alone.

Aunt Emily was nice and fun, but he once again had that funny feeling in his tummy. Well, something _like_ that funny feeling anyway. It was a little bit different because he wasn't exactly happy. It was like being scared without really being scared: like it was turning inside out again.

_'Do you have their presents?'_ His aunt asked him. She signed the word for '_gift_' by making fists with both of her hands. Each of her index fingers were extended towards him and curled at the end. She held her hands to her chest and then moved them towards him. Once and then twice. Then she signed the new special short name-signs for Steve and Danny.

_'The presents - the gifts - for Steve and Danny?'_

C.J.'s smile got bigger and he nodded. He ran off to make sure they were both where he'd left them on the table in their hotel room's kitchen. They were there, _yes!_ and he ran back, to let his aunt know.

_'Yes!'_ He signed quickly as he fell into her arms, her hug warm and soft. Again, his tummy felt different - like being scared without really being that way. It happened a lot now that they were going to go to home to Ohio. He would get to see his pony and meet his grandmother ... he bit his lip though, worried about leaving on the big plane. Sad about leaving at all and his tummy flipped over even as Aunt Emily hugged him close, signing that she loved him. But C.J. soon forgot as his aunt began to tickle his ribs, his laughter breathy as he tickled her back.

** H5O* H5O**

"I thought I knew," Steve said to Danny. "I was wrong."

Danny heaved a sigh, curling his fingers around the back of Steve's neck. "About?"

"Way back," Steve said as he continued to stare through the large bay of windows, comforted by Danny's touch. "Way back when we first met and you said that you came all the way out here for Grace."

To be honest,_ way back_, Steve had secretly thought his new partner a bit … extreme. He'd held his tongue though, glad he had as he got to know the man and his family better. Completely opposite from his own, Steve eventually learned to be just a hair jealous of Danny's family. His attentions. His priorities. Then Steve had learned that being one of Danny's priorities was a special thing indeed. So, he thought he'd gotten it and better understood the reasons why Danny had followed his ex and daughter half way across the planet.

Steve assumed he'd fully understood why Danny'd maintained somewhat of a civil relationship with his ex-wife. Hell, Danny had even been on decent terms with Stan, the new husband. _Way back,_ Steve had let most of these things come and go: been watchful but gone with the flow.

He'd watched and waited, quietly disapproving even during that one odd and very long moment when the two thought they'd reconnected. Charlie had been the somewhat secret result of that re-union. Then things had gone to hell in a hand-basket. Lies and mistrust had surfaced time and again. But Danny had swallowed them whole in the end, internalized them and apparently moved on. He'd taken the higher road entirely for the kid's sakes. He'd forgiven his ex-wife and moved on. Danny surprised Steve almost every day with the size of his heart.

Nonetheless, Steve really hadn't known as much as he'd thought. He'd fallen in love with a child that wasn't even his own. And how long had that taken? A few weeks and he'd gone heart over heels. He hadn't understood a damned thing at all about Danny until Conor James Gardner had shown up alone and abused in some lousy convenience store bathroom.

"I thought I got it," Steve repeated softly. "But I didn't." His voice didn't only crack, it broke. "Danno, how could I have been so stupid? How could I not _get_ it?"

"Get what?" Danny gently asked. "What are you talking about, huh?"

"You. Grace," Steve said as he numbly watched the activity on the tarmac. "Way back, when we first met. I thought I understood why you came out here from Jersey to follow Rachel and Stan in the first place. I didn't know the whole of it though. My God, I thought I understood but I really didn't! I get it now though and it's only been a few weeks. A few _weeks_ ... when you had a few _years_ with Gracie. And, Danny? I can't do this … with C.J.. I just can't … how do I do this?"

"He has a family who loves him, babe," Danny replied. "And so do you. That's how you do it and it has to be enough."

"It's not going to be enough," Steve heard himself arguing back. "I love being named as one of his god-fathers. I love what Emily's done and how she's tried to keep us all together. But how can we possibly be his god-fathers with so many miles between us?"

"We make it happen," Danny said. "We work hard to make it happen."

Steve tried to nod in agreement as he stared at that California-bound plane, his heart just about destroyed. The dinner the night before had been a quiet, thoughtful ceremony of sorts. He appreciated everything which Emily had tried to do to heal all of their hearts. C.J.'s included. The framed pictures of C.J.'s hand-print - one for him and one for Danny? He'd stared at his all night, memorizing not only its outline, but the tiny swirls of each finger print.

He'd reread the engraving a thousand times, too. The engraved silver of the frame had made him tear up - still made him emotional - and Steve would never deny how touched he really was.

_"Godfather - someone to love, lead and guide me"_

Emily had tried hard. She'd put a lot of thought into the gifts and truly meant every single word for both him and Danny. She'd done her best to explain how he and Danny would be part of C.J.'s family forever. For himself though, it wasn't enough. He might be feeling selfish, but Steve wasn't sure if it ever could be enough. He wondered, really, what C.J. was thinking and how he was truly coping with such another big change in his young life.

He'd seen the confused expression in the boy's eyes before he'd gotten on the plane. At the whim of the adults, C.J. had seem torn and unsure of what to think or do even as Steve had hugged him, kissed him: called him his brave boy. But he'd only _almost_ grinned as Danny had gently carded his fingers through his stubborn but still very _Danny-like_ haircut.

The six-year old was certainly a brave little boy as he'd clutched his old floppy-eared dog in one hand and held his ever-present Captain America action figure firmly in the other. Though his eyes had spoken volumes about his uncertainty as this new day finally came true, there hadn't been a single tear. There also hadn't been very many genuine smiles.

"I'm going to miss him, Danny," Steve whispered again, his eyes briefly closing as Danny's fingers gently squeezed the nape of his neck. "I hope he's going to be all right."

"Me too. I'm going to miss him ... and he will be," Danny whispered. "He'll be okay. He's very brave ... and he's very, very loved."

Hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, Steve stood there in silence then, Danny by his side until the doors to the jetway were closed.

He waited until the plane was disconnected from its gate and until it had taxi'd out to the runway.

He stayed there even longer, only guessing when it had physically left Hawaiian soil. He only got his muscles to move when the board was changed to announce the next flight. He didn't utter a word in the car on the way home and Danny didn't press him for conversation.

_**~ End. ~**_


	31. EPILOGUE

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_This was NOT in the plans. It truly just happened and BEFORE the last chapter even went up. The muse was upset and cried with the last chapter; in turn - that made me purge this Epilogue in one sitting. Literally. _

_And then the muse cried again ..._

_The story on A03 has some FanArt at the end of Chapter 27 and at the end of this Epilogue._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

**Epilogue**

Conor stared at his latest tutor refusing to engage even if his ASL vocabulary had increased ten-fold since leaving Oahu. He was smart and quick. He learned fast and his aunt knew that. But all of this still felt all wrong to him. The big house and the big green fields were pretty, but he didn't want to be there. He liked his pony, but it wasn't very much fun to only ride with his aunt. Besides, she was barely there lately. There wasn't anyone to play with. His eyes wandered to the big window where the green leaves on the tree were slowly changing colors. The reds and golds meant nothing to him except that things here were always different.

Conor had stopped smiling shortly after moving back to Ohio. His aunt still loved him of course and he really _did_ love his pony, Snickers. The little animal was always searching his young owner's pockets for pieces of apple or carrot. And Snickers was good to talk to. Conor talked to the pony a lot, signing out his sadnesses and wants. The pony seemed to listen to him more than Lion or Dog. He made Conor feel a little better, as did his grandmother.

He had been afraid of her at first - the wheelchair and walker were scary things. But the big tank and the long string attached to it were worse. The string stretched from the green tank to his grandmother's nose and Conor didn't like it very much. He learned that it helped her to breathe better though, so with time, he got used to it. His grandmother spoiled him with secret stashes of chocolate too. She was kind and had pretty eyes that sparkled. They genuinely liked each other, but nothing was the same as it had been in Hawaii. As tutors came and went and his aunt went back to work, he'd begun to keep his signing to a bare minimum.

Sometimes during the once a week Face-time calls with Steve, Charlie and Danny, Conor would barely say a word. Originally excited about the weekly calls, Conor had stopped wanting to see them. He'd respond if asked a question but nothing more. He'd watch Steve, Charlie and Danny on the computer screen, but after a time, his aunt would take over and do more of the talking. Charlie would wander away in the background and then, so would Conor.

He didn't know it, but all the adults were being affected by his growing reticence. Conor didn't know any of that and it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. As time went on and the warm weather of Ohio became cooler, he was simply more and more sad.

Conor lifted his chin now when he sensed the new teacher stepping closer. He wouldn't readily meet her eyes though. Instead, he looked to Aunt Emily who once again was unhappy with his response to this sixth private tutor. His aunt looked more upset than usual. He knew that she had a business trip and had to be at work. Conor felt bad but he was unhappy too. She would go and he'd be left home alone with Mrs. Oliver and his grandmother. Over the last few months, it was always the same and with the weather changing, he couldn't even go swimming anymore.

_'Hi Conor,'_ his latest tutor signed patiently_. 'My name is Anna.'_

He stared at her hands and shrugged. _'We're going to have a lot of fun together.'_

Anna was trying hard to be friendly, but he didn't care because _they_ all began the same way_. They wanted to be his friend. Wanted to get to know him better. They all promised him that they'd have fun._

_'Conor. Please,'_ Aunt Emily signed quickly from behind Anna's back_. 'Anna is nice … she's …'_

He shook his head and looked at his feet. He put his hands behind his back a minute before his bottom lip trembled. He hadn't cried before. Not once since leaving Hawaii. He'd certainly never cried in front of any of the new tutors. But he was tired and feeling so so lost. He just couldn't be brave anymore. He closed his eyes and a tear broke loose to roll down his cheek as he imagined his toes sunk in hot sand. He thought about Charlie's sunny bedroom and the Army cot. He wanted Danny and Steve. He loved his Aunt Emily. He _did_ but he wanted to go back to his real home.

Conor didn't open his eyes when he sensed his aunt coming closer. He only lifted his arms up knowing that she'd pick him up and they'd be sad together. His tears fell hot and heavy on her shoulder when she swept him into her arms. He could feel her talking while tracing her fingers across his back in a soothing pattern. Probably to the tutor. Probably sending her away like all the others and again, Conor just didn't care. What he focused on was his aunt's hand and how much it was shaking.

Hours later he was holding his Aunt Emily's hand at the airport, ready to say good-bye to her. She wasn't shaking anymore but she was very, very quiet. She was still sad. He had his Captain America action figure in his other hand and he was still sad, too. It was late at night; dark out and Conor was tired. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. He should be in bed and yet, this was okay. _Almost_ okay. Sometimes he got to stay up after his bedtime and go the airport to say good-bye before his aunt went away on a business trip. She went to places like London and Paris. Sometimes to a place called Dubai where the pictures she showed him were pretty with water and beaches and huge buildings. He liked those pictures because they looked almost like Hawaii. Those pictures made him both happy and sad. He knew though, that he usually only got to go to the airport when the trip was going to be for a long time and his heart sank more. Aunt Emily had gone away a lot of times during the few months he'd been taken to Ohio.

Now, they would have to say good bye again. He'd be stuck with Mrs. Oliver and his grandmother. Probably the new tutor, Anna, too.

He couldn't remember what she had told him this time. Was it London? Or maybe some other place? Was it a few days or for a few weeks? Conor hadn't paid too much attention to what his aunt had said to him. He couldn't remember but didn't want to ask either. So he barely looked around as they walked to the gate, Mrs. Oliver behind them, holding his favorite floppy dog.

This time though, they didn't stop. They all went through the busy security area and then on to where people were sitting to get on different airplanes. Only slightly interested, Conor thought it was just a new way to say good-bye. He was wrong though as his aunt ushered him directly down the hallway and onto an airplane. He looked up at her, confused when she pointed to a row of seats. Mrs. Oliver was still with them and that wasn't something which had ever happened either.

_'Me too?'_ He signed and Emily nodded.

_'Yes. Sit there,_' Aunt Emily signed. _'Conor, we're all going on a business trip together.'_

Conor made a face, still very confused as he sat between Mrs. Oliver and his aunt. When Mrs. Oliver fixed his seat belt and put his floppy dog in his lap, Conor looked from one to the other.

_'Where?'_ He signed and his aunt shrugged_. 'How long?'_

Instead of answering him though, she ran her fingers lovingly through his short hair. She smiled down at him but still looked very sad, even after kissing his cheek. Only then did Conor get a little bit worried, maybe even scared. Tired and confused, he felt the airplane begin to move and his eyes got bigger.

_'It's okay,' _his aunt signed to him._ 'It's a surprise. I promise it's a very, very good surprise. So try and to go to sleep, okay?'_

Her eyes changed then from sad to just a little bit happier when Conor nodded. He tucked his dog under his chin, yawned and then blinked tiredly before he closed his eyes.

**H5O* H5O**

C.J. figured it out just before they landed in Hawaii. Fidgety from pent up energy, he was on the edge of his seat, straining against the tight seat belt as he tried to look out the window.

_'Hawaii?'_ He signed again and again, his eyes huge. He laughed and tapped at his aunt's arm as the plane began a slow dip and curve to land. He could see the blue ocean and green of the island and his excitement grew.

_'Steve? Danny?'_ C.J. signed, his smile knowing no bounds when his aunt nodded. She was also smiling and even laughing with him, but her eyes looked funny. He forgot though as he lost sight of the ground when Mrs. Oliver insisted that he sit the right way even if he couldn't help kicking at the back of the seat in front of him. He looked at his aunt and she signed to him.

_'The plane is landing … we have to wait.'_

When he felt the big plane finally stop, he looked around wondering what to do, disappointed when his aunt and Mrs. Oliver made him sit even longer and until the lights changed. His ears popped and his aunt unbuckled his belt and then her own. C.J. bounced to his feet. Everyone one was moving. It was time to leave!

Tugging hard on his aunt's hand as they left the plane, C.J. was only thinking of the _house_ and the _beach_. Imagining Charlie in the bedroom and wondering if Charlie would be home or at school. Eager to see if Steve and Danny would be as surprised as he was for coming back because of Aunt Emily's business trip.

But he stopped in his tracks when he saw Danny first. Holding his father's hand was Charlie, too. Both were waving at him and C.J. looked up at his aunt now so very confused.

_Everyone knew?_ His aunt tried to smile but she was really crying now and his own tummy began to feel a new kind of funny. He was suddenly scared but excited. He finally understood what was happening … he just _knew_ … that this wasn't a business trip anymore … it was a very big forever change.

He held his breath in case it wasn't real though - in case he was wrong - because this was his birthday candle wish and it had taken such a long time to come true. He looked up at his aunt with big, wondering eyes.

_'I want you to be happy,'_ his aunt signed to him. She burst into tears and knelt down to him and C.J. wrapped his arms around her neck. He felt her crying as they hugged each other hard before letting go. He backed up and signed his very special _'I love you' _words and she nodded, her smile finally looking more real. She signed '_I love you_ _forever'_ back to him and got to her feet.

She tried to take his hand but he was already turning around on his own and looking for Danny again … for _Steve_. He saw the dark hair immediately and when the crowd moved, he saw all of the man, standing just behind Danny and their eyes locked.

C.J. stepped forward just one tiny step almost afraid to move until Steve waved a shaka sign to him, wreaths of Hawaiian flowers in his hand.

Instead of moving, C.J. slowly fanned his fingers out and touched his thumb to his forehead. He stared hard at Steve, trusting that Steve knew what the sign meant. When Steve scrubbed hard at his eyes and nodded, his smile huge, C.J. broke away from Mrs. Oliver and his aunt.

He took off running then, dodging in and around people. His course true as he aimed himself at one person in particular. On the way, he dropped his floppy dog and forgot Captain America but he didn't care.

With eyes only for Steve, C.J. managed to sign _daddy_ one more time before he flung himself headlong into his arms.

_~ ... **THE** END! ~_


End file.
